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Coincide or CoexistThey had nothing to say to each other; it was just that simple. They had no conscious idea that they existed around each other in such close proximity. They did not even know that the person they were staring at lived in the next apartment.
Only then did they see each other for the first time. One moved in to their apartment a week before the other. One had a car and the other always took that bus and read on the way to work.
They did not know it at the time; chances were they would never know that they worked in the same building, under the same boss at the same time. One always got home earlier than the other did but in their apartments, they did much the same things.
However, that car was broken, had to be fixed, and forced one of them to ride the bus to work. By chance, one was waiting at the bus stop waiting when the other happened along. One of them felt a little relief as the number of people gathered at the stop.
One looked at the other and wondered why the seemed a little fami
Observed SelfSometimes I imagine seeing myself from the corner of my room, right behind the door. I try to visualize what I would see, sitting at the computer, endlessly clicking mouse buttons.
I try to visualize what my room would look like from there, the carpet, light, shadows from chairs. I try to look at details like my desk lamp or a book by my bed. I look at the power strip I have by my door that helps to illuminate my large fish tank.
Sometimes I even try to listen, thinking about what the sound of tapping would really sound like way over there.
Sometimes I see a sad man slumped in his chair wondering what he can do. Other times he is jovial and happy. Much of the time there is contemplative indifference. But maybe I'm not really seeing from the corner of my room. Maybe I should look over my shoulder and see what the desk looks like or what condition the keyboard is in.
How about the book in the little stand beside me or the various pieces of garbage strewn about going unnoticed? Papers wit
may as well buy another packcollapse, and breathe into the carpet:
sunday mornings are not
for falling apart, but damn
the amphorics, this
is not an atmosphere.
you fell in love like you always
wish you didn't, made all their
smiles replaceable, interchangeable,
fell asleep with shadows and kept
drinking, just letting yourself sleep
with blue pills
and tried not to scream.
(keep this image in your head:
fire and nectarines, a sudden jerk
of realization, inspiration
breaking your neck and leaving you forever
breaking bones is not so different
from breaking hearts - it's all about
the leverage, the angle, the mode
(and at least it wasn't personal;
it can color in your own guilt
for starting lines and never ending
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