Knowing Strange

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

moving

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.

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