I extend my hand but your eyes face away and my words bounce off the screen scrambled by ads for pre-paid funerals. It is possible, I know, to have arrived so far ahead no one can reach, much less connect. It is impossible, I know, to now retract, unlearn, revert back to a thing of worthless triviality.

We share a couch but my eyes stare out the window and my hand clutches philosophy and your eyes fixed on the screen and your hand wrist-deep in popcorn.