Visiting what might be tomorrow
I thought briefly of you, as though
blowing a dandelion too hard, watching
its seeds scatter with the breeze.
I thought of you, of us, dancing,
spinning inside a crowd, drifting
away with indifference.
The music played on ever louder,
echoing as though the ballroom
were empty, but it was full. Full
of masked faces, and we were
ourselves masked, and costumed,
unable to recognize one another.
We may have been close, perhaps,
or one of us may have left early,
thinking the other had gone
ahead, only to wind up lost
on foggy streets, the hallow glow
of street lamps and somber instinct
to guide. Still, was it you, or I,
who left first...
had we parted at all?
-dp-
6-3-14
