Oracle #2

Notahaiku
 
The people leaving
the place I am going to
are not me. But, wait!
 
The people leaving
were once arriving.
They had expectations.
Some past experiences.
Some vignettes
projected [even
those who are blind?]
onto a small space
on the macula
 
The people driving toward me
have two kids, a blue-black
dog with spots, and sunburns.
What are their dreams?
 
If I swerved, forced someone
to broadside me, while we
waited for the police I could
ask:
Were the beds soft
or firm? When it rains
do the closets smell
like ducks? Or sheep?
 

 

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