Twenty years later,
we talk as though
we had never parted.
What a strange bond, that
lets us speak the same words,
without a doubt as to meaning,
that lets us know the meaning,
without a worry about the words.
Do we actually know
our minds that way?
Not even our own,
never mind another’s.
Still we push along,
in parallel lines, checking
over the hedgerows only rarely,
and yet still in stride.
Until we check again,
and one is gone,
and the words go unanswered.
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