We the people now ‘individuals’
urged to make clearcut separations.
‘We’re all one? Nah. We’re units.
Crying when you see another cry
not healthy for your own psyche—
your life is fine—why spoil it?
Trouble is, my soul separates
from others by only a few degrees
and wobbly ones at that.
Pharm company boss assured me I’d be
better elsewhere after spotted crying
as our receptionist had a breakdown.
Arms at my side holding me tight even
as I kept typing, but within seconds
I’d slipped open. Merged with her.
True, if everyone went around merging
with everyone else, how would we keep
the beat going for the good old GNP?
Considered normal to open a crack—
to feel sorry for, to suggest therapy for
to send teary emojis for.
Slipping open, so careless. Letting lines
melt, dissolve—like walking outside
in the rain, grateful while getting wet.
