8pm on a mid-summer’s night’s eve
gentle breeze breathing
on unseen skin and an orange premonition
in the sky.
An other sits
in the lone gazebo, buried alive
in stagnant conversation
ceramic fingers too delicate to dig
to the surface.
A misguided glance glaring through
the hesitant beginning of rain
filtered like the low sun through
leaving an other beyond a screen
screaming for consideration.
Lunch rush in a cramped
rubbing elbows with envious
strangers, steam streaming from
and a bump from behind
a simple misunderstanding miscommunicated.
Three seconds on either side of the nose
then back to the toes,
realization: an other.
Human, I don’t know you.
Human, do I know you? Have I? Will I?
One takes their coffee and says
Brittle bones on the highway hugging
the white line through to the
the purring of pavement beneath
Turn to the person beside you,
do they look tired?
The crystal whispers of
stale music stuck between windows.
Find your stare reciprocated,
the four seconds between lanes
To regret a missed sunset
To curse a spilled drink
To recognize, human,
I am another other
Cheyenne Zaremba is a seventeen-year-old twelfth grade home-schooler from Hamlin. She would live off chai tea lattes if only it were possible. She is an artist, as well as a writer: writing poetry, prose, and fiction in varying lengths. She holds many titles within Canvas, and has a little of everything on her plate. Outside of Canvas, Cheyenne is an active member in Girl Scouts and volunteering throughout her community. Additionally, she is a part-time student at Genesee Community College. When she isn't reading, writing, or drawing, she can usually be found on swing set testing the laws of gravity. If you wish to read Cheyenne's writing, you can visit her writing Tumblr, transposingsynpases.tumblr.com, where she posts her writing and also reblogs the work of writers she admires.