Caught

There is a certain distance kept between people at all times-- on the el that distance is in head, not space; in friendship in space, still sharing the inward eye's words. No stranger could be close? But that turning head on Damen- when double-takes shatter car windows and crash two people briefly together- so very briefly- only an instant in the memory's collection of experiment. But I could write a novel with that second glance.
Some people reduce this life surge to communal living- city life- skipping from time to time to person, place, idea- no stops for moments that make up the real stuff of life. It is this violent divide between distance and community that strikes me...because I believe I may have felt that closeness not yet named...