Linggo, Enero 18, 2009

Overheard

There is a sense of isolation

in a sea of bodies.

Each drowned in pools of extreme

sorrow or happiness.

One must float in conversations

to keep abreast in each

other’s lives, seeking a connection.

Alienation is the name of the game—

a masquerade: everybody

still wants to belong,

animals flocking

desiring a comfortable scent.

And as the smoke curls upward

kissing lights that leap to the tempo of the music

I look up, think of you

and wonder.

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