Bystander

I wonder why your legs no longer run- how you taught yourself to walk to the dead end and back

with one maniacal-lead-foot.

What is agony if it is not observation and ambivalence, the expense of sheer joy [Sun-streaked Daisies].

Hide from my light in faded polaroids, bent and obscured from view, a forgotten hair on a rag thin pillowcase.

Does my peripheral existentialism drown us both

in separate kiddie pools?