Our eyes glass over
sucking the moisture from the air
left dry and heavy
pulling on my ponytail
tied too tight but even that
cant pull focus
from the seat between you
A line drawn taut
I always thought I’d title this poem the seat between us
The one between me and some lover already
a step into my periphery
my eyes rolling past them to the notepad
heart pounding livid
words spewing frantically
from quivering tongues and pens
but here I am instead seated face to face
with the empty seat and empty eyes
too many children and too much space
Yes, every table we sit at is far too wide
be it circle, square or rectangle,
they all have two sides
and when I speak, I speak into a vacuum
My words cannot carry themselves here
and everybody can see we’re consumed
if not by sheer distance then fear,
of what’ll ensue if we close it
and what never will if we don’t
I worry if I blink I’ll miss it-
Some imperceptible shift as the universe
takes the breath this vertigo naturally has to elicit
pushing a draft onto you that’ll pull you both from wherever you are back to the forefront
of your irises and from these godforsaken chairs
their squeaking breaking the silence as they’re pushed back
and you run down to the street
that’s wide enough for walking side by side
to dance like you said you did years ago
So I don’t
I sit and stare
short-winded and overwhelmed with air
as you sit as two people, strangers,
factory workers, neighbouring cashiers do
still at this table with a seat between you
