in Poetic Prose


The splash of bells on glass – I look up in time to see the steam rising from your shoulders as you step in from the driving rain.
I comment on how free you look when your make-up is running in lines down your face and laughter is curling at the corners of your mouth.
Why, in crowds, are we always trying to hide the life that is bursting forth from inside of us?
Sometimes I find myself singing aloud when riding a bus full of strangers. Sometimes I laugh when I see the frozen expressions on the faces of those I walk by… of course, that only causes them to freeze up all the more. No, I’m not laughing at you, I think you’re beautiful, honestly, I do. Come alive, come alive!
Why should our hearts not dance?
In laughter or in grief.
Why should our hearts not be revealed?
Why are we so eager to maintain some semblance of apathetic anonymity? I guess when we’re anonymous we can delude ourselves into believing that others have bought into the image we present, we can fool ourselves into thinking we have convinced others that we are everything we pretend to be but know we are not.
How much of our lives do we waste crafting a world of illusion around ourselves?
This tobacco tastes like cherries and I realize I haven’t heard a word you said. You start again but, just as quickly, I am lost. Not that it matters, it is enough for both of us that we are here together.

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