Foolish Travelers

Every space is an intersection
of disjointness, or the other way
around. The space makes it a point

to be traveled, a graph or map
where these fingers trace the edges
embedded on a plane. The wall builds

invisibly between us: fluid,
glass, slicing through each one
colliding without scattering shards.

Displacement occurs as force
defines the term remove, shift
until a shape forms. Here we are

always getting lost.

to Kriselle, for arriving without compasses in her journeys

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