the other night, i had a dream about a stranger.
Standing beside you, I'd feel your shoulder warm against my arm.
Our elbows might brush, but not quite ever fully touch.
I would avoid your eyes, and God forbid any type
of further analysis of the lines
on the palms of your hands.
Because I know if I saw them, if I dared touch you, if only
to trace and try to follow their path,
I would see how those lines--
so deeply marked on the palms of your hands--
looked so similarly, so hopefully, so painfully,
just like
mine.
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