when rest is not an option, the eye sleeps upon any body small enough to contain light. when being close to you is not possible, the whole country weeps for the rain to come.
and yet the flood never begets an arc on which to navigate from point a to point b.
the tide rises, people begin to walk towards the aisle. the lady behind the counter smiles.
and i wonder
if a park filled with happy families could ever provide the proper level of companionship.