Moving. Watching.

When what is real settles most heavily before my eyes, and I find myself staring
at it for as long as it lasts, what I often notice is just how large my sense of you is
in my mind.
Often these moments occur when I am alone or at least without companions,
there is no question that my aloneness indicates loneliness
and that I then somehow conjure you up as an antidote.
The great movement into now is engulfing and shakes me out of my
own mind and into the world.
What I find in the world is everybody else, in the sense that I can ever
be conscious of them, those I know,
you.
When the world moves over me, shadows me, when it is colossal
and only a fraction of its true power the appearance of you
in my mind, or next to me, in another sense, seems a corollary of what
we achieve in our day to day drollness, our duties, our embraces
or kisses, our minds lying against each other the way skin does.