2003-07-01 at 22:45 (poetry)

you see them everywhere
behind each one
a past with filled-in cracks

some can’t be filled, though
shows through hair, eyes, fingernails

you never think of
the random passer-by
seen, once, then disappears,
into obscurity

not 2-D, but 3-D
not fake, but real
too much to grasp

try to fathom
a million different lives
two hundred different cultures
you’ll fail
as sure as the wind blows

(as it blows, we forget
the person who just passed by)


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