Yep, that’s what she said.
I believed her but didn’t want to admit that out loud.
Me scared? No way, so I didn’t reply.
I said something else that slipped around the edges
of admitting my fear. I might have even put a smiley
face on it, shined it up a bit. Shiny is less scary,
or so it seems unless shiny turns into blinding
light that stuns. She can read between the lines,
I think though I’m sure she won’t. That requires
more effort, and so little is given today, or that’s
what I tell myself. Maybe my effort is what’s lacking.
I’m the common denominator in my life, right?
That’s what I’m told.
I’m not talking about important stuff here. No sir.
Just everyday living with people I don’t know.
Oh, yeah, that’s right. I don’t know her—never met her.
Never heard her voice or felt her shoulder brush up
against mine. We’re strangers twisting a knot
together—we’ve got things in common! That’s right.
Funny how that is, strangers connecting, not knowing
a damn thing, and yet knowing some of the most important.
Like what makes my heartburn and my breath hitch.
Yeah, she knows things like that. I know hers, too.
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