They are passing
They are passing in great waves
They are coiled wire
They are gasses, excited
They are fish pulling on empty, empty air
They are grapefruit in the summer heat, overripe and fallen from on high

The strangeness of other people, people from far away
The movements of their hands and the lines on their faces still familiar
Their warmth towards children; everyone everywhere is warm towards children

The woman is a sparrow with a crooked neck
The man is a man

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