People arranged in circles
Are prattling on about their
Names and jobs and
Important details like how they once
Dislocated their kneecaps
While retrieving candy corn
From concrete flowerpots

But my thoughts are arranged in
Straight lines, mostly ones that
Connect my deceptively motionless eyes
To your silhouette.
Parallel lines never touch, and so
All the ties that stretch from me
To you are useless; our lives don't
Intersect like they used to

Naturally I've narrowed my obsession
So that it disappears: if the dimensions
Are too small to be measured
It does not exist at all; it's only
Symbolized by a tiny dot, the jab of
An ink pen on a flawless sheet of memory,
the point of insignificance

All around me people sit, still
Introducing themselves on superficial planes,
Trying hard to make themselves stand out
To be remembered. You and I remain quiet,
As though we already know everyone--
But the truth is, everything I knew
Vanished, or reduced itself to circles,
Lines, and points-- but I've risen
To another dimension.

07/07/2003

Posted on 07/07/2003
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