There is a moment of separation
between two things, & one of them is living.
A moth is living, is still alive.
And all this is happening on the other side
of the river.
Life is multiple, I have multiple selves, a past.
And different languages are spoken in
office buildings & tents.
Equipment is arranged along a shoreline.
The lights in the building go out, one at a time
The man on the subway platform is playing the accordion.
I make a fist, then relax, my fingers are trembling.
Bulbs burn out on an exit sign, the color of beef
at a lunch counter.
A woman on the subway reading War and Peace
asks me to follow her but I get lost in the crowd.
To obey with your eyes closed is the beginning of panic.
Nothing I do can impede the flow.
My oldest friend bursts into tears on the street.
If I could only have one thought at a time
& remember that there are others who think
the same way
& elsewhere – a man is preparing food for his child.
And elsewhere, a woman folds her skirt over the back of a chair.
Take a page out of your own book & remember the river beneath the bridge.
We pass over the Alps in a train in the middle of the night.
My arms are forgotten in the motion of the train
moving, word by word.