i saw a man earlier, out of my peripheral vision;
same rolled up sleeves, a white shirt; trimmed down sides for hair, the way you have yours right after a haircut, dark, curly too. glasses. even walked like you.
and for a second there, i thought it was you. i mean
it was you.
although if i had just two seconds more, i'd have known it couldn't be you; you're all the way in boston now.
and almost as instantly, this overwhelming urge to cry --
the speed of light, the speed of sound,
70 miles per second,
2 cm per year,
the speed of continental drift.