The Same

"Read my eyes," we say,
"No read mine,"
a kind of parlor game.
You're thinking:
"Things will never be the same."
I'm thinking,
"Things will always be the same."
You're thinking, "Reconciliation."
"Let's be friends again," you say.
I'm thinking, "When was that?"
I'm thinking, "Reconciliation
to what--to this, to that?"

It's a kind of parlor game.
Things are still the same.
It's double solitaire.
You stare;
I stare,
hold out a card or two.
We can't win or lose,
You, on your side,
I, on mine,
up in the air,
up in dead air.

"Read my eyes."
"No mine,
Read mine."
You're thinking,
I'm thinking, "Quits."
But I can't go
And time sits and sits.

It's a kind of parlor game,
and things are still the same.
Still the same.
The same.

--Philip Miller