I thought better of mockery and mischief
As she sat squirming next to me, her legs crossed
Mine crammed against the textured unpleasant plastic
Holding the hatted man wobbling in front on me.
Why did she care that I laughed?
In the lights a man invoked the God of the Gaps,
Which I could feel somehow in that armrest,
Though it was nearer a magnetic repulsion
than a spirit.
She once spoke of lost beings.
Bumping into ancient rocks, not knowing
Why they were walking.
Something of particles entangled, but not as Bohr
born quanta, but outside of determined missteps.
Then why are we both sweeting.
And wondering whether this whirlwind
Of rhetoric has anything to do with his death,
or our lives.
An interpretation of jargon.
A vector for me is a line, for you and vehicle
To the cell.
Time to applaud
But at least we can change the subject.
or start one, and wait until we are home.
Alone in the dark.
Waiting to write about things said over and over.
While we bridge the gap.