some people forget where they live so they put flags on their vehicles to remind them

this morning
the store was out of
whole milk so
i bought cream.

in the parking lot
i walked towards
the ocean
and
the woman
with the coarse hair
rode her bike in
the opposite direction.

she had a
yellow waterproof bag
attached to her
bike.
she appeared to
recognize me so
i started to
raise my arm in
response,
casually
stuffing
my hand
back
into
my pocket
once
i
realized she
didn’t notice
me, was
only smiling
in the direction
of
a group
of
birds.

i smile at
the birds.

a bald man,
his body
otherwise covered
in thick hair,
stands sleeveless
in the 40 degree morning.
his arms are
pale white
and
very large.
his arms are
covered in hair.
he smiles
broadly and
greets me
loudly.
underneath
their layers,
my arms
too
are covered
in hair.

at the ocean,
there are birds
in the parking lot.
at the ocean,
there are birds.
i watch birds
float on the water.
i watch birds
fly in the air.

it is loneliness
that connects me
to other humans.
it is disconnection
that lets me know
i belong.

Published by Zak

an intertidal island in an ocean of impermanence.

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