A path without faces

Heads down, watch
the pavement, avoid
eye contact (at all cost),
be humble (it’s a small price),
but pretend nothing
else exists save you
and the sidewalk
stretching out ahead.
Holding my breath until
I pass the walking cigarette
meandering in front of me,
I look for a familiar face
and wonder if they walk
the same road thinking
the same thoughts as me.
You have your clouds
and me mine, best
avoid making a storm.
Why is it the elderly
are so friendly while
the future is so intent
on a path without
allowance for the other?
Our bubbles are
less than friends of
friends who shouldn’t
meet lest they spill
those secrets meant
not to be spilled
like cups of water
atop magnets
whose poles
never match.


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