one is sitting at a laundromat
way past dusk in the dark
in the middle of the metropolis
with half a glass of white
waiting for the load to be done.
one is on her way to belly-dancing class,
stuck somewhere out there in traffic,
putting past her the death of a friend
while making sure her pup is safe
and not taking apart her apartment
while she’s gone.
the third of the bunch is on the couch
with half of the bottle gone,
gazing across the frozen fields
to motivate daring with dust
and distinguish king from kin.
these three are separate, it is true,
but they’re connected at once as well
by loss of much and learning of more
and friendship way beyond it all.
and so it pulses and pulls and pushes on
toward a common arc
of justice and joy and jubilee
and good news for once and for all.