this is not some
situational comedic skit.
cut. retake. edit.
this is
our existence!

why are we trying
to meet in the mist?
we’re here, let’s meet
in the solid.

i am brian prince.
you are
(insert who you wish).

i miss the face-to-face
no-screen
straddling
the bench seat.

i want to talk
without typing.

then you’ll see me crying
when i’m reciting these thoughts.
thinking we’re conversing
when we are really just silent.

this is our existence
right now present tense
and somehow we still wish to meet in the mist.
the vapor.
the liquid.
the water.
transforming our element which is further
than the physical distance we already live with.

maybe we should embrace ourselves as clay.
this is our existence
built in a personally picked handmade bouquet
of reminiscence.

all i’d love
is a hug,
even if we awkwardly
step
on
each
other’s
toes.