I lose myself in between people’s heads
sometimes. Find fissures of wisdom, despair,
clarity, confusion together bled
into one slender organ of space where
energy might spur dreams, maybe even
an eyeblink of peace. At ballgames and rock
concerts when sunset or spotlight leavens
curled hairs of couples flanked in tightened blocks
before me. Or city sidewalks after
a rain when they come at you, battalions
of blurred faces, their angry shouts, laughter,
but mostly stark silence, like lost stallions
roaming deep canyons, when you realize
their stampeding camouflages their eyes.
Roger Armbrust
August 6, 2009
