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I know I know you

I can walk down streets
in new cities or be in a stadium waiting for the concert to begin
and I see your face
and I feel
I know you and you and you and you

Do I know you?
I must — we are One, after all.
I know I know you.

I imagine we’ve talked when these antique carpets were new,
raised stallions, children, built teepees together.
I sold you my wares in the city square.
You spoke to me of prayer.
You taught me how to breathe on bicycles and Milky Ways we rode together.
I want to kiss you again.
And die.

So I ache
alone in a crowd of strangers
who forgot
that we know who we are.

So I rest
in the refuge that
at the very least
we are here
side by side.