We were magazines
STEPHEN MEAD
I did not realize-----
the vicarious existence,
the pages as songs to find, or photos,
whole scrapbooks all in a face, our gazes,
the living cinema, our touch, experience
in a dream, knowledge as in empathy
or voyeurism, as breath kept turning the copy,
superimposing the me for you who was the scenery
of some news occurring in another land.
Stephen Mead is a retiree at last growing comfortable with writing poetry/essays and creating art.