another poem rough, once again, the formatting might not carry through...

Impersonal
-
The rear-view mirror is telling me a story,
a window from the miniature world inside my car
to the miniature world inside another.

It's a monotone day
(white overcast and gray)
and the air is flat.

And he slouches, sullen,
listless and dark,
and she stares forward, fixed,
static.

But she raises their hands (fingers entwined)
to her lips; she smiles slow,
and his eyes change.
---
The night is dull, or maybe it's me
feeling like I'm looking through
someone else's eyes.

The intersection is lit green, the color's
a mist I probably would have gone through
anyway, were it red.

I would have killed him.

He's slouching quickly on the crosswalk
as if there's no crimson glowing hand
begging him to stay;
the truck before me swerves and skids-

But he looks up as I pass, eye contact
like barbs; rust dark hurt
catching in my throat.

another interesting quote:
"Any moment of pain is ultimately bearable. What is unbearable is to project the pain into time, to add up how many minutes it has been going on, to wonder how much longer it will last or how much more we can take. To think about time in this way is in itself suffering."