Everyday
I look for somebody
among the shapes of strangers,
a friend,
sharply alone as I am,
who can meet my eyes,
and hold the gaze
and in the blaze of seconds,
say something
which cracks the crystallized suffering
of being one in a sea of people,
and washes me with relief that
I am granted
the ordinariness
of being known by another,
from one crossroads to the next,
before we drift in different directions
and can’t find each other.