MRIs and Us

watching it all happen
from the outside you
can see the secrets
the connects you can find
something, a new truth, maybe
that crack through which the
fabled light might enter --
           this is what they believe
           and it might be true
do you want to know
what makes people
act without conscience?
           would you like a picture
           of your insides for your
           wall? what is dimensional?
           what is categorical?
first, there is no refuge
there are always the people
and the things the lacks and longings --
oh, but could we be a refuge
for one another, my suffering
soul? -- i want to believe – but
           i need to away the wind
           is everywhere the leaves
           the rain wet paper skitters
           across the street --
you say you could not resist her, taunting
her, this is perhaps worse. an irresponsible
personality. unable to touch, the veil too thick the world
too unfocused. it eventually becomes clear
that the only thing that matters is you, the only time, now --
           but all the normal people. look at them. sitting, eating.
           oh, to be one among them.. an unhappy
           fantasy, my psychopathic friend.
in fact, what may or may not
be true might never be known,
to either of you. to me or to us.
lights. magnets. binary beneficence.
  a moment of understanding. -- but there's nothing, really,
           nothing at all, quite like the way they look at you, he said.

Heidi A. Howell