stumbling cross eyed paths
rivers run in parallel
opposites of one another
with whole universe in between
on the other side of seeing
so much grit fogs the lens
hiding depths
hiding fish in water
hiding the cool pearl blue scales
nickles in a wishing well
pass on uncounted
unnoticed
hungry in the streets the starving children beg
when there should be a photograph, somewhere
there should be a museum full of art
worshiping your frame
detailing every tiny way
in which you catch the light
in your fins
and toss it out again; raindrops
then my grumbling stomach might laugh
might smile
might pretend not to be hungry
while staring at a picture of
food
these two rivers
never meet until
too wide the
crowd
the sea
the innumerable faces
one of them might be yours
but it’s not
and I’m not
either one of the crowd
I am
what a monster
hidden
coiled beneath
river grass and
sludge
and you are
just one glory bird
sailing above
a distant horizon.
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