MRIs and Us
			
			
			watching it all happen
			
from the outside you
			
can see the secrets
			
the connects you can find
			
something, a new truth, maybe
			
that crack through which the
			
 fabled light might enter --
			
                       this is what they
			believe
			
                       and it might be true
			
do you want to know
			
what makes people
			
act without conscience?
			
           	would you like a picture
			
           	of your insides for your
			
            	wall? what is dimensional?
			
           	what is categorical?
			
first, there is no refuge
			
there are always the people
			
and the things the lacks and longings
			--
			
oh, but could we be a refuge
			
for one another, my suffering
			
soul? -- i want to believe – but
			
                       i need to away the wind
			
                       is everywhere the leaves
			
                       the rain wet paper skitters
			
                       across the street --
			
you say you could not resist her,
			taunting
			
her, this is perhaps worse. an
			irresponsible
			
personality. unable to touch, the veil
			too thick the world
			
too unfocused. it eventually becomes
			clear
			
that the only thing that matters is
			you, the only time, now --
			
                       but all the normal
			people. look at them. sitting, eating.
			
                       oh, to be one among
			them..  an unhappy
			
                       fantasy, my psychopathic
			friend.
			
in fact, what may or may not
			
be true might never be known, 
			
to either of you. to me or to us. 
			
lights. magnets. binary beneficence.
			
    a moment of understanding. -- but
			there's nothing, really,
			
                       nothing at all, quite
			like the way they look at you, he said.
			
			
			
			Heidi A. Howell