Sure, we'll make it.

	"Sure. We'll make it."

All of my neighbors were
strangers standing together
more like joined
in mutually sustaining.

eyes muffled lips
hair tethered wrists
veins trapped skin
faces enclosed legs.

the many-limbed
living a muscle-wall
away from death
- this was what made them a crowd.

a maze of certitudes
the coziness of company
embroidered existence
not endured alone.

coiling together
braced against
They were sure.

	"Excuse me."
				I guess.

oil, collage on photo, 16" x 20", 1998

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JAMES W JOHNSON