The dead dance again
seeing a stranger
you swear is your ex girlfriend
you can imagine her naked
you know her intimately
yet you’ve never met.
Shadows can’t dance without a little light
the blind see things robbed by sight.
I think about the story Tiago told me:
last night on a bus going with some friends to see a movie
stopped for twenty minutes before they realized they’d gone twenty minutes without
and the driver wasn’t in his seat
so they got off to find a dead man in the middle of the street.
Women started crying
though they didn’t know the man.
Had his history been written in the obituary, torn, trampled beneath their feet
they might have even made a joke
before kicking the newspaper underneath their seat.