Where would we be
if we were one
without a self?
Perhaps our kitchens
would be less dated;
our calendars would be
slashed with checks
and thorough lines.
The women in line
at the deli counter
would struggle for some cash
and reverence,
pay up on gas and tobacco.
The little boy on 6th street
would not waver
from the line he drew
in the sand at his waterfront
beach house, asking why it is
the water must turn over
and over–
and, like a switch,
we turn to the next page.
Reaching Joy 