He runs into the wall scurrying
after he forgot what
he keeps telling people he’s
the new Michaelangelo
the future animal
the ancient impetus.
She turns a different way during
her original turning away
she reaches for what she sees
but is just beyond
her outstretched blonde
demanding hand.
After years of individuality
of doors slammed and burned
neither one ever pleased
in opposite directions
on the same bridge
they meet in the middle.
I have told this story before and sang
about those in the fog bank and fish tank
they hear a rumbling in the distant air
the home of the not yet aware.
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