a man walking his dog
looks at me
suspiciously
the time of his passage
he is a young man, clearly preposterous wrinkles in his brow
when I say, “Hi,”
he passes with no acknowledgement
this place
we rub together on the subway
cricket’s music of sweat and jackets
people on the street are more lonely than where I’m from
we greet each other
with no bubbles to pop
there is no chance meeting in cars
we stay further apart in a room
but this is not your private space
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