Hard to remember always that we share a soul
You, I, the vicar who almost ran me over on his bicycle
The one who frowned before remembering.
Offered an ‘even vicars…’ kind of smile.
The one who might do a sermon on it
On patience at the weekend.
‘Even I’ perhaps he’ll start.
Ego speaks and soul separates
Into me. You.
My dog
The vicar.
On Sunday high up in his eyrie.
I’m wondering what remembering looks like:
Silent, infinite love-orgy
And what the password* for that party might be.
*PM me pls if u got it thx :)