We sing the same songs
you and I.
We prefer the adventure of discovery
to the safety of knowledge;
white lies becoming
black truths;
air as thick as aspic
with a clammy heaviness
and a tang of ozone;
the subtle chill
when the sun is gone.
The world is too complex for most things.
Neither purely right nor wrong.
Words, actions, even intent
depends upon
who does the viewing
and who is being viewed.
The things we mean
to do.
rarely match
our accomplishments.
We have no idea
what we’ve cost each other
nor the faintest trace
of understanding.
You and I
sing the same songs.