Why?

I stand still in the crowd
while others move their
shoulders, sweat, hair
over serpentine asphalt sunshine
I stand still and close my eyes
to feel the souls brushing mine

the moan of the world is loud here
uttered by silence
broken by the hum of an engine
the sigh of a street light
That padlocked place in my heart
beats a little faster
strains a little harder
to hear the kindred call
however soft, however faint

they speak of the laundry forgotten at the dry cleaner’s
expired milk and
the rabbit that the dog dragged home and left in the yard
they speak of everything but the question
and in doing so give it voice
in the hollow space between words
in the soul of the echo

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