to look at

you wouldn’t think
that we are doing anything
important
to look at. we sit
across from each other but
we’re both on our phones.
we’re not on Facebook
or Twitter
or Instagram
or OkCupid. instead
we’re writing poetry.
we’re ranging far and wide
in our minds, thinking about
the past, the present
and the future, all at once;
we’re communing with the world so subtly that
it’s invisible to the naked
eye and the open
ear. I know
that whatever you’re writing,
I’ll get to read it
eventually. and you know
the same. whether or not
you feel the same way about it
I do not know, but I enjoy
the secret knowledge
that what’s in your head
will come out, and that anyone who thinks
they know what we are doing
is wrong.

Published by

R. Brookes McKenzie

what fresh hell is this

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