Outside I can hear late night traffic
and now and then headlights illuminate the wall
across from my window and I think quietly to myself
about the enigmas of other souls; of how
now matter how closely we know another, we do not really
know anything about the tiny thoughts in their minds
and the subtle shifts of mood - as distinct as the weather
but equally flighty - and the nature of the slow bemused smile
curling their lips in the dark at something we’ll never be privy to.
I wonder how often you think of me when you’re away,
whether I cross your mind like a staggering memory or
sweep through like a gale-force wind. Do I leave you
lonely, hungry, sorrowful, dazed, bemused, or troubled
when I appear at once, unannounced, uninvited,
and vanish into the labyrinthine corridors of your thoughts?
Do I appear at all?