If the rain had ceased
so that in the silent streets
where the puddles soaked the
bustle up, and let the world breathe
Perhaps a chance meeting in
a plaza, thought romantic in the sunlight
though no match when the bricks
were bathed in moonlight
Maybe, in shifting we both
wandered into one another
a meeting, in transit
while headed to “more important” things
In my imagination we met, and spent
all of our collective lives together
there is remains
you weren’t there
that night, in the moonlight.
Unspoken Politics 