Only Passengers
At my best,
I had only a toehold.
My grasp of things making up our footings
was never strong
and contained towering imperfections.
So, my incessant solicitations
within earned forgivenesses
came to an end.
And the waiting,
too,
ended.
I realized that even if
you were from the mountain
of a thousand pardons,
not one of them would land
on me.
Having already paid the exact fare,
we became as two bus passenger strangers,
going in the same direction,
but unknown to each other.