Erased

Finding people is exhausting work.

Smiles, our social currency,
are so practiced they appear without reason,
and sometimes, treason, to emotion beneath.

I'm good. Can't complain. Not so bad.
And if it were bad, is that bad to say?

It takes days of encounters,
months of memories,
to map people into your world.

But, with distance,
how quickly they are erased.

Then you need to find more people.
Not just any old people.
People who are your people.

People who wonder aloud
the things you haven't dared to say.

People who catch your eye
in a shared moment of thought.

People who laugh uncontrollably
at the same stupid joke.

We suppose that our world
will always be filled with them.

But add in distance,
and see how quickly they are erased.