Spate of the Union

“We have nothing to show for ourselves but a frivolous and deceitful appearance, honor without virtue, reason without wisdom, and pleasure without happiness.” ­—from March, a graphic novel by John Lewis, et al.

Look at the other

One or tens or 38 million or

50 million or 14 million or 2 million

Or whatever, as they say,

and each one, each singularly

moshing a life and

what do I see, and hear, and smell?

Is it something new and

Pleasant, like a delicious and

Strange meal or nothing,

An indifferent shadow lacking familia?

The shadow falls

And disconnects, as they say.

So strange to be part of

So many disconnections in

A world like mine,

E pluribus animus.

Because there are

So many others, each to

Each and other to other,

What is a person,

What am I, to do?

So much else to do,

Who has the time,

The desire?