Tohuvabolu

The morning commute
A mix of slow thought and fast movement
Like an old recipe
Familiar and without thought
Like an old familiar friend
Forgot to ask what's new
Because it never is
And when it is
You never knew
Never asked
Moved through the conversation
Like a crowd of strangers
That you know well enough
To predict and avoid
Pass by with minimal contact
Conversation held high
To escape depth
It so slows us down
Connecting
When our mind is on movement
It does not land
And the one you passed by
Is stranger now
Former friend forgotten
Misplaced
In the busy life
That moves
So fast
That everything stops