Human Error

I envy and pity you the ties that bind you, that may very well break you. I am glad and sorry that you aren't aware of the danger posed to yourself by allowing someone this close to you. I wonder at the ease with which you whip out your phone or allow your picture to be taken because that's leaving a memory behind in permanent inky pixels. I hobble along behind your laughter, face turned to the ground and smiling to it instead for the scene I see before me. Your gazes have summed each other up then elaborated again, a stretch-release-stretch-release-stretch motion allowing maximum knowledge of the other. You joke around like this is a competition about who's the best comedian, and then you ask me to join in.
I gaze so deep into the distance you assume I am looking away; you let it go instinctively and safe again I pray: it's alright, it's okay - ask me about tomorrow? I'm only here today.