Eye to Eye

Eye to Eye

I want to see you eye to eye

When our cars meet at the junction

And one of us has to reverse.

I want to lock eyes

(Not in a weird way) but when,

On realising we both stay in the same building,

We arrive back at the same time

And have to hand the door one to the other.

And when we pass on the pavement,

I don’t need a smile or a hello,

Just a tiny connection,

Split-second reflection on the fact that we breathe the same air,

Share the same piece of concrete,

May both enjoy an avocado pear

Or despair at the state of politics

And might both have holidayed in the same part of Crete,

Or Gatehouse of Fleet.

I want to see you eye to eye

Although you are young and I am old.

I was once young and you already are old

To the teenager at the bus stop.

I need you to know that I am flesh and blood,

Body and soul,

Whole —

Made in three glorious,

Squeezable,

Breakable,

Unfathomable,

Dimensions.

I want to see you eye to eye.

Why is that so hard?

When did we become so contained

So locked

Restrained

That the very idea of our gaze spilling out

From one to the other

Seems crazed

Quaint

Weird

Unhinged?

I want to see you eye to eye —

Please try, just try.

Allow a little trust to seep,

Peep, out of the corner

Let a sly, shy glance

Give a blinking chance

To the possibility of breaking free

And see me eye to eye.

Photo by Laura Lauch on Unsplash