This glowing truth divides me and them,
a light searing the edges.

through their flaxen fingered, gibbous frames,
to dark-haired, diaphanous me.
Both beneath the same black star.

Cholic me, stolid them.

Human connection
must be so fragile.
In my mind, our futures perfect
immaterialized already.
Because,
beyond a frisson of tug and toil; love and lucre; spite and spoil,
this constant radiometry blips, irreducible.
As we are, we have always been.

Evening will come, and
impala, you, across the long shadow of youth,
leapt toward the sun.