Swear
that you can lose yourself
easily
in something
if you want to be
close to me,

for the best friends I have
thrive
on a passion
outside themselves,

live as if they are constantly
writing letters to others
that begin with “To Whom
It May Concern,”

and go on for pages
of detail, obsession
writ tight and careful,
no detail left behind,

certain that whoever receives
the letter will be
concerned as they are concerned,

ending them always with,
“Love” or “I eagerly await
your response,” forgetting
(or perhaps omitting with intent)

their names, the least important
detail, not worthy of note
in the presence of the greater topic.

These are the people I love most:
the ones who can forget themselves in something
as I have forgotten myself.

We find each other
without worrying about who we are
because from the start,
from first contact,
we understood that we had it right:
we are incidental chips bobbing
in the wake of our love
for the torrents of this world.