Waiting for Real Feeling

So we wait. We were going
One way. Someone was going
The other way, and we were

Supposed to meet each other
Here, where the wind blows the flags
And the sun is bright but cold

Ahead of a promised storm.
What is an intersection?
Why haven’t we connected

Yet? Someone spits on the ground
As they walk by in the wind.
Not who we were waiting for.

We are waiting for someone
We can touch. There is nothing
Feels as real as being touched.