We mostly
whittle
away time
by dreaming
of bodies pressed
together all day,
and then these same bodies rising,
walking through corridors
of the photo album
or
the museum;
down long hallways
and out into the open air
surrounded by the crowds
who are forever
searching for the food
to replace
us.
Somewhere
deep inside
we know
that there are
beautiful
things
we are supposed
to have seen,
felt,
touched;
even if we once
believed
they can
only be known
outside
those
walls.
There's little to be done about this.
So for now
we just walk
with the crowds,
let them carry
us,
begin to
melt and mix
away
as it always was
as it always should be;
passing through
and over shaded, unmarked
paths
that are supposed
to be
our history.
Philadelphia - 2/16/07
