One touch

I knew then,

when your hand

hung on for that

extra second

and our fingers

refused to depart,

that I knew

the connection

was real.

but the homeless woman

tried to sell us lottery


and I waved her off,

like an annoying insect,

with the buzzing noise of


zipping by,

with eyes,


fixed upon you.

They don’t want to leave

their position.

And why should they?

You’re treasure;

I won the lottery without playing.

But the homeless woman

is still homeless

while I get to call you home.

life just isn’t fair

and I’m surely partly to blame.


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Currently living in Vietnam, teaching English, fixing the world's problems.

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