You at the zoo and feeding the animals and I
am happy to be on the other side and empathized,
before I see and taste the other side
where I am and wonder
what they do when they leave and
wonder what I do
when they do not come
with little hooks of sandwiches and
pieces of tired things that really are delicious
if you starve long enough and forget and
wonder if they wonder how I occupy my time
when the turnstiles lock at the entry booths.
A zero sum sounds appropriate, but really
I want what they have in me and hope they
want what I have invested in them. Their showing
up at all. Where I curl up tight
to the space heater inside the cage and think
about how the world could be a better place
if we weren't so entirely separate and
so entirely linked by threads that do not
identify definite relationships of any color
in their vibration, but possess a musicality
any ear would acknowledge
if the notes
were audible,
I wish our palm prints matched up
in more than the fleeting spirit of
steamed glass and eyes that can see the same
ghost lines before they evaporate.
