When our schemes fail,
remind me to grin without envy
at those who keep saying
good morning and good night.
When the conversation fades, sing
to me of sleepless dawns,
hallucinations of another world.
Even if my eyes wander,
and nausea sets in.
The blisters on our feet were there
to demonstrate we did not make contact,
the ground was unforgiving,
banners chants and rage, forgettable:
people yawned, sought alternative routes.
If I spoke of learning curves, or rising action,
then you might confuse stories with textbooks,
and precise formulas might spare you
the precipice.
The timing was not, is not, right.
Your ears were caked in wax,
and my social graces, pedestrian --
we were younger than our balding heads suggested.
Our convictions, which littered the sidewalks,
have since been recycled.
We are learning to wait.
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