A Plus, A Lack

Their spirits coalesce in busy
corridors, slow mud, swift
tributaries – corners, cul-de-sacs,
long roads – some straight
as boulevards, some twisted
and invisible as fox-paths: math

equations tick away, resolve
themselves, unlock their enigmatic
locks to let another avatar come
out to take a look: to creep into
the book I seem to be compiling.
Some balloon up in a great

loud glare – envious perhaps
that I get to get up and go from here
to there and all they get to do
is stare. Although it seems to be
enough for them to see: gazing
at me not as if they cared too

much who I was but to exercise
their newfound eyes. Perhaps
I ought to bring them ‘round
the room to let them face another
place or two for novelty: but they
do not inspire love particularly;

the point, unsentimentally,
is not about a camaraderie.
We’re neither nice, nor shy.
Tonight this one has got me
in her eye. I look right back. She
seems to see a plus. I see a lack.




.