People like little rivers and tributaries
flowing to the sea
entwined in words with faces dripping in kisses
but I sometimes wonder about what the eye misses;
contact between humans
sometimes we go bone dry because of the shyness of our eyes
which flow with tears
with our fears
which ravage our souls with plastic aspirations
and metallic and jewelled frustrations
has the black phoned mirror stolen our souls?
Or is the water the constant flow of love enough to water our souls?