I miss people —
Seeing strangers as human beings, not
potential health hazards or data points
plotted on a graph, gravely illustrated
by Chris Witty.
Bumping shoulders with passers-by, or
Creating space on pavements,
weaving between backpacks in the
bustle of rush hour,
bartering for our rite of passage.
Oh, to be on a dancefloor with a diva,
unaware of the space she's taking,
threatening me to bAcK-tHe-F*Ck-Up
or she'll call her boyfriend.
Give me a queue of people with no personal boundaries, except
I'm not afraid of the invisible particles they're breathing
down my neck.
Navigating around daydreamers on their phone
in narrow walkways.
When 'letting someone pass' didn't involve
from oncoming traffic.
in public parks or footpaths,
using my hands with oblivious self-assurance,
not a tentative, anxious elbow.
I want to host people in my house,
to hear about the route they took to get here, and
the sound our wine glasses make
as we cosy up on the sofa.
I want to hug them at the door,
about indirectly making my/their Nan ill.
On the darker days I remind myself
that brighter days are coming.
I'm counting down the days until I can
See strangers as people.