I see you looking back at me,
but I have no memory of you,
no name or event to link us
as kindred soul.
There's a sun playing
expressionless games
about to fall from the shelf,
my feet may burn, but never my heart.
My mirror is a broken window,
the broken window, a city,
and a man and woman
are crossing into it,
—crossing my mind,
fused together.
Their laughter like
claps of thunder,
bursting forth in a sky
devoid of any signs of me...