In the Midst

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A strange sort of love poem

I see you and me
Rows and rows of eggs
Children
Cousins, nieces, nephews
Aunts and uncles
Untied shoelaces
Scattered in the corners
Single socks on the stairway
Bowls of frijoles
Piles of dirty dishes

But I don't see
Us
Alone
Together
I don't see us
As one

We are in the midst of these
Things
This is not us
It's just
You
and
me
In the midst

There is no coming together
No exchange
No pushing
Forward or back
No growing
Up or down
Within or without

We because each other
We stop a moment
Things
Accumulate around us
But they don't have much meaning

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