They walked out of the
snow
with slouched backs
into the tram,
literally; the blind
leading the blind,
a gentle tapping
pointing out their
way,
and sat down next to
each other
their backs tipping
over and their canes
alongside their
outstretched legs,
and as they sat finding
comfort
easily by touch and
sound
their distance to
other passengers
was felt in a calm
hunger
for knowing where they
were
as if their eyelids,
like the horizon
understood distance
and shape
but could not be
pressed further
than beyond that end
to which their probing
hands
only reached for each
other
not for help, but for
play
as their bodies
enjoyed
the movement, enjoyed
the expected juggling
about
and then laughed and
she
came closer to kiss
his closed eyes
knowing that darkness
does not always erase
memories and that
memory
is never better than
imagination.
Steven Pelcman
Poetrymagazine.com USA 2013
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