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The Subjective Nature of Movement

May 15, 2003
11:51 pm

Standing quiet on a midnight sidewalk
in a butter warm pool of light I found you
stopping on your way to somewhere else
I moved to enter your circle
You hugged yourself closed and turned

You walked holding eyes steady away
Streetlight trickled on your shoulders
as you walked ever forward and on
Never wondering that the light stayed on you
You were always leaving, never gone

As I tried to follow I understood this:
In reaching I had simply receded
And this such perfect irony!
You, walking away, never moved
I, pursuing, fell away and faded into the dark