An arch Across

An afternoon sky pouting smoky clouds.

You can actually see them through  a glass door.

Minimal conversations try to build a bridge across two strangers.

The most vivid one was where we located my hometown on a map that existed in the air.

We almost built a bridge while he located the map and I said a dislocated south.

That was the only prolonged moment of significant talk in an year almost done.

The rest of the time I plucked his silence, encased it in mine and let it survive the din of conversations around us.

We began months ago...almost an year done... a departure looms and we stand on the arch of a bridge hanging across a fathomless river.

And down across, you find translucent droplets of unspelt expressions.

An arch across what was never noticed, never expressed.