Twilight Walk

If you and I, we could walk together, along the river banks, in the night— maybe even twilight, where nothing else exists, and neither of us knows how to swim, yet we cling to the banks, honoring the boundaries that separate dry from wet. And afloat we set, on walking boats, looking in the mirror— the eyes, that were never ours. I search for me, you search for you, in each other’s presence. And when we can’t, we pretend to blame— like the air that surrounds and fills our lungs, but is still blamed for the poison that human hands burn.