If I truly watch a person something happens:
Their presence dissolves, the vibrations that surround them gone
And I see just the bare beneath. It is quiet there
Whispers of the memories they have endured or reveled in,
Shadows on their faces of what I know and they know
Is the ultimate for us all: no flesh, no twinkling eyes,
No gleaming or gaping teeth,
No hint of lavender or of sweat
No breath. Or light. Or dreams.
I close my eyes so that the frosting appears again upon
This cake baked by God or silly genes at play:
And for better or worse, I pray.