THE SAME

"We are the same!" you told me, lifting me onto your shoulder like a flower.
The same, like two poplars in an avenue of trees?
Or like two hares during hunting season?
The same because we talk to pigeons?
And equally pale in the moonlight?
Because distant lands beckon us with a magic index finger
To the exotic East? Or to Africa?
Perhaps because we walk through the crowd
Alone? Solitary amidst the multitude?
"The same, the same," answer the birds from the vineyard
As they feast on my grapes.