April heads downtown
with James
to stuff envelopes for a GMHC mailing.
This time, I don’t ask to join,
just tell her I’m coming, bring Dylan.
On a crowded 9 train,
we hang on to silver poles,
where so many fingerprints
have already left their mark.
Think about how many places
these people are going,
wonder how many to the
same street,
same building,
how many lives
are constantly overlapping.
Wonder if flutters of hope
(like mine)
can pass
from person to person
without so much
as a touch or
glance.