I think if that you were to trace all our paths with a ballpoint pen

Following the way we go

Where we’re put and

where we take ourselves,

(Plus all the times our paths cross with one another, if only for a breath,)

I think your paper would be completely black

Sort of shiny

And reeking of squid.

So, you know, maybe don’t do all of us

But still:

Pick out a handful of people and you’ll end up drawing tangles

Squiggles intertwined into a permanent knot,

Together till the sun blows up.

Because she’s a friend of a friend

And I passed by you in Publix six years ago

And your soccer coach’s brother’s wife’s friend’s ex-husband’s cousin’s former lab partner’s sister was the chief software engineer for your neighbor’s favorite app.

We are each other, I think

Maybe not always

Maybe not forever and ever

But at least right now

And isn’t it lovely?