We don’t take pictures of each other anymore.
Where did the dimensions go?
Am I someone you don’t want to know?
We shutter to the next frame
in this self-promotion game.
Narcissus and Echo lure my friends
to short distances
mistaken for great heights and necessary ends,
and as the surface wavers,
the clock impatiently ticks.
We deserve to expect more:
An unknown knock at the door.
A surprise of unspeakable grace
that can only be read on an other’s face.
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