We are listening to the same song
We are in the same city
We are in the same time
And our handwritings
are in the same font
We diverge
I pick up new colours
You shed old ones
We are friends, through it all, it will be alright
We laugh at the same silly jokes
My hair changes
Yours is the same
Or did you change it, and I didn’t notice?
You buy a new bike
I buy some face cream
We make a salad:
you want organic
I want green
You have a beer
I wine
You go
Come back
I stay
And then
Runaway…
Still, again, we are listening
To the same sounds
And thinking
About the same structures
of reality
The interpretation of time
And comparing wrinkles
on our similar-yet-different faces
What remains the same
Is us.
London / Clapham North Tube Station