All of us, the dark lonely little people
who live apart, although we love each other
who are silent, although only with our eyes
let's raise our glass of wine tonight
to the big moon and laugh
sarcastically , detecting amidst its
shadows our unspeakable absences
Maybe somewhere between the existing and
the nonexistent we'll hover
to touch hands, to share tears
and then return
exhausted back into the black
hole of our ego , inconsolably ...
Dedicated to my fellow American Author Dewey Dirks who lost today his beloved wife from cancer ...
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