`(0nnec+ion`

in a walk so arid

and a street so bare

how nice it is to see a figure approaching.

a sillhouette with my same cadence,

singlemindedly traveling

to a destination behind me.

but how much will i love the second

when we brush shoulders

or stare into eachothers eyes

before walking back along

never to see each other again.

i will listen to the jingle of your backpack,

hear clearly the steps of your feet,

look into your eyes,

until our paths swerve away again.

i look up now,

see you closer.

five rowhouses away,

i can almost hear your headphoned music,

see your sparkling eyes.

a few more paces,

we'll be close to the split second

connection.

in our world

of simoutaneous independence,

unsynchronized rhythm...

i crave that human connection.

our second of synchronous

propelling my walk home.

i look up.

within reach, almost.

eyes locked in mine.

almost at our peak,

the houses on the left

and the cars to the right

are fading in my vision.

you, your jingling backpack.

waiting for our full eye contact.

waiting for the singal.

the connection-

and you grasp that hood of yours.

delicatley lift it over your curls,

and not more but,

you lower your eyes.

they are drawn back to your glowing box.

and stay there,

head down.

animated human versions

pulling you closer than the real ones.

i am the perfect victim to your forcefield,

looking away like you wanted.

walking forward again,

thinking

nothing

of you.

i am left looking blankly

at my left,

only seeing the space your eyes could have been.

the space we could have looked

and smiled

or imagined

or touched shoulders.

but no,

i am let down

by my own kind

again.

i'll keep on walking,

waiting

for the next passerby,

i guess/