Let it be an ode to distance,
to a surface of bravery.
Let us vehemently shake hands,
introducing but one face
and one name to each party,
and deem ourselves efficient.
For it takes just such a flimsy of information
and artifical, if enthused, contact
to encourage our muscles to soar up
to the sides of our faces.
We smile uncontrollably, glued
to the necessity for companionship,
and no amount of speculation could seperate us
from this basic human need:
not the heaviest hard-back nor
the weightiest argument.
We are in it only to get inside it,
inside each other - however you may take that -
anyway, it means we take up less room.
Merrily we roll along,
forcing ourselves in and out
of each other's lives,
wiping away any residue
to save ourselves
from the undignified vulnerabilty of forever
Beneath pleasantries, tucked away inside silken breast pockets, folded over and stored in the credit-card compartments of over-used wallets, hearts
mechanically - if not manically -
along their little green lines in the dark.
So let us toast to budget airlines,
for easing up the drag of stale lifelines,
and for allowing us this freedom,
without consequence, of belonging
and to no-one