Take a walk with me, through the town, slowly.
See the people, those ones you’ll know just once.
These candles, bright and temporary, soon to blaze in the direction from which you came.
What do you see amongst these fleshy pages?
What do you feel before the eyes of the army of strangers, those unfamiliar twitching marbles?
I’ll tell you what I feel, and it is not judgement.
I’ll tell you what I see, and it is not flesh.
My mind is on its knees awaiting the unexploded crescendo.
Have they not heard there is no they, only we, in these unknown days and unseen weeks.
The bars are bending at the force of the captive’s kick, selling ego its own trick to make off in the mountains.
They’re fires to stoke, grace alive in vape smoke.
Headphoned souls passing through a shared time, where nothing is replicated, no atom the same.
The flat-capped miracle. The stern-faced saint. The anoraked oracle and the angel dog. The warrior upright on wheels with a wizard in wool stood forthright behind her. The cyclist with a cyclone smile. These beautiful strangers of mine.
I see them all, flawless failures, and they see me, watching them in awe.
It is what I’ve always seen.