Sometimes I think
how well I know them,
and then, how much more
I’d like them had we passed once
in a diner,
exchanging niceties and smiles of relief—
relieved, since strangers often remain so,
and pleasantries are pleasantest
as boundaries, where
a nod takes care
of beginning and end, assuring us
we need not bear long
gregarious passersby, as bear long
children must
the company of mothers, fathers.