Contingent


We find ways to cross paths
And yet
Not speak.
Is this how planets feel
In orbit?
They are surrounded and surrounding
And moving yet not colliding
And they are close,
But not close enough
To where they touch.

And when a stray asteroid or
Comet or
Debris
Comes
To knock them out of the perfect orbit,
One leaves the other,
To be obliterated
Or to leave,
Or both.

Contingent

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