The content of this poem is probably not appropriate for this blog but I'm going to post it anyway. To some extent, however, i think it is a fitting counterpoint to my poem We Know Each Other. Parts of Interstitial Selves also remind me of the aspects of the city that I describe in Displacement, though the narrator in former poem has certainly been infected by the movement of the city much more than the narrator in the latter poem.
Inside the café
I look out on to the small portion of the city grid that unfolds before my eyes:
Beyond the softness of my translucent reflection on the window pane
Towards the sea of black coats, umbrellas and moving shapes that grace the landscape.
Another unread novel rotting on the shelf
Passed over by all who would read it;
Passed by on the city street.
Can you feel the rain between us
As you move on
Pretending not to see the face that stares past my prints
Shining off the window after these longing fingers pull away?
I have seen it in your face when you look down or straight ahead
And pass by the others in your bubble as if living in your own dream:
Merely a distant gaze,
You face the throng,
Face the unconscious need that drives the surrounding movement forward
Towards the discovery of its own emptiness that renews its search and its longing.
You do not share this longing:
Dwelling in this space between the others
Content to be carried along by the forces beyond your control
How I wish your calmness would infect the world around you
So as to part this ocean of desirous chaos
That I might walk to you
Look you in the eyes