As I sit in the back of my truck
Looking around at the active, misplaced people
I see something that seems to be
A disturbance, in the disturbance of melancholy

An older white male is sitting so solemnly
While a young Asian female cries so readily
Where could these two misplaced containers
Ever find a synthesis of reality?

I begin to imagine the possibilities
Of their cosmic collision abound

Could he be her father, talking about the mother she lost?
Could he be her teacher, who she confided her trust?
Is there a relationship there, one not to be discussed?
One in which social ideology is negated by lust.

As I ponder further, I can only come back to myself
What is it that makes this meeting of direct interest?
Two containers of differing age
Two containers of differing race
Two containers of differing sex
Yet they become so alike as to imbue a sadness
A sadness that says these boundaries are only seeming
A sadness that says they are overcome by feeling

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