That was the last time
we were all together,
now as foreign

as the people weaving
through the crowd behind us, stopped
in stride as if to remind me

of the motion
beneath our feet, pulling
us apart like a rope,

each strand weaker 
then it was, left to suspend
the weight on its own.

II
Another frame might tell
a different story, the girl in blue
now out of view

or maybe you looking
into the lens as it tries
to capture our urge

to roam far from the forest
that shades us from harsh eyes,
only allowing us to be seen

in an envelope that arrives
on a Tuesday, months
after the second we laughed.

(Red Leo, Big Chief Lumbee, Jack and Jill, LK, and me
— yes Penny, I know you where there taking the picture.)

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