there are two strangers
sitting on my desk.
don't worry,
they're contained
within a frame,
constrained by the
unfortunate fact that they're
inanimate.
I don't know them,
never did,
only bought them
for 2 bucks
from a pile of frames
and inanimate faces.
only bought them
because they seemed familiar
like someone I would get to know
like someone I'd forgotten.
long ago I thought in their place
would be a picture of you,
always facing me, smiling
trapping me in those big hazel eyes.
now I know better,
your portrait is scribbled and
hidden away in the corner
distant and soft to
match you.
and there's strangers in your place
instead of you, strangers that I bought
because, if it was your eyes staring,
I'd never look away
and work (and all else)
would be
afterthought.
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