Contrast

The dead of winter—
numb toes, icy faces warmed
by heaters in houses, feeding
desire for friction, irony.

Opposites never attract unless
they cancel things out, creating
space to fill with icy pools we swam in
once, hot air and hail.
We lost our breath, seizing suffocation.

Too many wrongs turned right created
contrasts, which leaves me here:
belonging with these belongings, walking
barefoot on subways. Standing
firmly on shaking streets.

Things clashed and created chords.
Collapsing into energy and
hope that glances turn to understandings,
a secret curiosity and beautiful absurdity,
shared on separate spectrums.