I hold your eyes through glass,
conversation stripped
of sibilants and plosives
reduced to a vowel roll
like Charlie Brown’s ma’am

I wrestle with the thought
that this might be our last contact
without contact
although as adults we were hardly
what you’d call tactile
I’d take the chance to hug
and see your smile up close
right now

Settle we must for charades
and snatches of life
as I leave you
in the care of
wonderful strangers