They were betrayed by geometry – the geometry
of a circular world that suggested they were certain
to run into each other some day. Through the motion
of days, and dreams, longitudes blurring into
time zones across airport coffee shops, hoping,
imagining… like the misplaced, they would find each other
in lost and found bins, in warm window seats.
They figured geography maps would drop a clue, a city
name, a lake or even the kind of vegetation that would
somehow lead to a street, and a house number.
And what is a good time to call?
No time good enough to call people fallen through
the circle of time, dizzy with the round-and-round
motion of an orange earth.
And now look… the sun sets in a vague direction of the west,
and perhaps that’s geometry struggling
to reconcile the lines and circles of their world. Later, it
will try with moonlit chimes and jasmine breezes,
and through the debris of feelings collected
over the years that refused to pause or smile…
as they still seek a straight line that will lead to a
single latitude circling earth’s skin.