Today I am thinking of
falling down buildings bruised knees and the way your hair
falls across your face in a photo I had forgotten
I am thinking of the undeserved horror and the undeserved beauty
of an average day
and the afternoon sunlight that makes us tired
and the way the underground train stops for a moment
and then all the faces beautiful and otherwise
are gone again
lost into the fog of everything
and you cannot prove
they were ever there
and I walk along these streets as eyes peer through windows
but the doors remain closed
as an old man smokes a cigarette and reads the paper
outside a coffee shop on Sutter St.
the morning headlines saying the
lost child has been found dead and
the air strikes have resumed.