I watched you

these pieces attract attention
I see
you try to grasp
but slide them around

you don’t look at the others
I think they are important
but you try
and stumble
bumping yourself against
immaculate hippos

they stare for a while
or stare back
you, captivated,
move politely

I have the patience of a wasp nest
and want to swing my arms widely
and wildly scatter you
the pieces
the box
table room

the light is failing
nothing points the way
past incongruous trees
and obscured eyes in the distance
we are lost
in a misguided safari
fueled by the scent of stew

my tentative reach
is met by your hand
the only thing defined in the room


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