I am always pausing
in front of windows
sunlit places of reflection
of unclear inevitable memory
and speaking to people
I thought I had forgotten
I wear my solitude like a summer dress
its faded blue folds sit patiently
on my skin like a question unasked
I want to stop souls on the street
hold their hands in my sweaty palms
and tell perfect stories
exchange our losses like river stones
the kind we used to rest on our chapped lips
in the still heat of childhood
I want to rest my fingers on the backs of strangers
the sighing of leaves
the opening of a cafe door
the dying flutter of a moth on the windowsill
the humming of a lonely child
these are the anthems I live by
I will tell you the poetry of necessary life
begins in the empty spaces.