I go quiet and people are talking. The blur of irrelevances flitter by and that evening’s crowd gather and gawk eyes. Such a such and such is as and such a thing and such as was. And I find my own comfort within the crowd and gawk eyes, such a time and such a space and such a person and such a place. Small talk and I can’t concentrate AND the mill grind slowly stutters and begins. And all those childhood memories heavy blocked within my chest...forward a little, head down and dense...forward a little. I look at the backside of the heads that I will soon face. Forward a little. And all before, stare hard as there turn turns. Forward a little. And I catch the sliver of a glimpse and I can’t look, I don’t look, I won’t look, I will never look. My eyes can never touch his eyes again and my last chance now exists to bare witness to these shuddering events. Forward a little but I still can’t look, face down. And I shake hands with all the rigors of habit.