The lines have been drawn
in ink, pencil, pigment
between man and woman
male and female
you and she.
Sitting alongside,
one forms the differences
but the interior walls
made of cells and sums
hum
at a frequency more different than two boxes to check
(or more if you have evolved farther yet),
and off we go without thinking of what matter matters.
And I
hover
somewhere between the two
able to see me and you
and he and she
and we
as the multitude of divisons
sway this way and that
curving around our understanding
like the bends in a ruler
and the tubes shrinking past
and the rusty bolt, the steam rising, the goggles and
the glass.
Don't think on the future
think of the now
the moment
this moment
and see with all sides
I am not the she you think
and you not the he I would be
but yet together we sit
and mingle
before sprouting off in another direction
to retangle
perhaps
if the soil is left
unfiltered
by the side of a darkening tree.
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