how long
should you
hold
another’s gaze
down a narrowing corridor or
a door open across
a sparsely square or bless
the victim of a multifaceted sneeze
before it becomes
awkward, leaving
you, each, flailing beneath
the weight
of compulsory debt?
or
is this a meager cross borne
by a meager Christ longing to
save the world
with his hands?