You turn around as you walk away
But whatever it was about them that bothered you
Is no longer there to see,
And that, in itself, bothers you,
Because they were there without any warning
Although warning might be too strong a word
(Or not)
For the sensation you feel right now,
Turned back to an absence
That feels overweighing with immanence
Of a foul kind.
Had you seen them before, they seemed certain you had
And had an understanding between you
You have no recollection of
Or sense of now, except their certainty,
Smiling and significant.
You feel a scar forming
Well in fear of the wound.