i could live
in this
city,
you think.
you’ve done
nothing
but walk
and eat.
nothing
but look.
when you aren’t
sure if
you exist,
pull out your
credit card,
pull out
cash.
look at people
while you walk,
but
not too intently,
make eye contact
but
not too much.
if someone looks back,
smile.
if no one looks back,
smile.
“they are
very outdoorsy,
so they can
hike
and do stuff
like that.”
“ohhhh”.
look at people,
look at birds,
look at buildings.
smile.
pull out your
credit card.
smile.
it’s ok,
people are
busy,
it’s ok,
people have
friends
and jobs and
families and even whole
existences,
it’s ok.
you’re a stranger.
the woman in
the coffee shop
is staggering,
stunning,
she smiles
at you,
looks
at you,
you
hold your
credit card,
you
smile and look
back.
it’s ok,
you’re a stranger,
too, to
your own self,
too.
aren’t you?
you want to
move again to
a city?
you want to
reduce your experience of
desire?
you see no
contradiction
in this?
the sun is angling down
and west
and away.
it casts your reflection
thickly
in all the passing windows.
walking,
you pass windows.
walking,
you catch sight of yourself,
golden from sun,
in a passing window.
you look yourself in the eye.
you are smiling.
your hands are empty.
zakschafer.com 