so there's a man sitting outside and i'm looking at him through the glass that separates us-
and i see him talking-
telling someone his whole story about how he's been looking for himself
and i block the sun with my hand and i realize
there's no one standing there-
he's alone-
and pouring himself all over the ground
i wondered where the line was drawn where he stopped caring if someone was there to listen
and i wondered how thin is that line between knowing you're in or out of touch with that caring...
