toward dusk. Too far for me to reach
yet your greeting comes in a text
message I would've missed if not for the
false companionship of strangers, so drawn
to cellphones like fireflies to light.
Bowed, somber heads forever missing
a rainbow's colored magic, connected to
consciousness beyond the loops of logic
Slowly, I reach out to you back in slow
reply, one eye on a stray cloud following
my bus, the other covertly trailing the arc
of a game on a girl's cellphone.
Quietly, the stray cloud settles.
My pilgrimage of you still treading
paths of amber shrouds home.
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