EXT. PARK, DAY

Bench
and on my left you sit, staring at the parked cab
and on my right, empty space
it pulls on my sleeve
a gravity
your expression never changes from my point of view
you may be living but I can't see that from here
you're talking to passers-by
you're feeding the birds
you're on a cellular telephone
you're reading
you're none of these things from this angle
and yet I know you are all of these things
Let me see your face!
turn the other cheek, though I've hurt you before
and let me see what beauty the untouched side holds
It is safe to avoid eye contact
to stare at your escape and never approach it
it is safe to assume that I will always wonder what you're thinking
I could just as well leave
and turn for a passing glance
and deliver those parting shots
like camera-flashes at the big premiere
and then take your cab and bid you adieu
fare well
but I stay here and gaze at you, hoping to catch you
when you inevitably turn to see if I'm still looking
The space on my right is calling, telling me to keep my distance
but my curiosity keeps me waiting here, chin propped on my hand
arm on my knee
leg on my foot
foot on the clouds
dreaming of days when I can wake up and understand you
and so understand everyone I've ever shared a bench with
the pavement slips out from under us like a sheet under china and glassware
and beneath us
(the big reveal!)
nothing.
and the bench is gone
and the park is gone
and even the cab, our only way out, is gone
and you turn to look at me
and I apologize to the woman
for staring
I thought she was someone else
she laughs
she knows the feeling
she knows the feeling
she knows