There’s a second time for everything. To keep finding friends, change the questions. Look into the face of the crowd and see that it’s not crowded. Our bodies no longer burdens, our debts restructured. Each thought we have again is a new discovery. The rain-slicked green of trees reawakening in spring. Baby dragon ribs stained red, abandoned on the side of the road. I close my eyes. Walk down a crowded street. Pray. A spiritual world materializing. People in the poem replenishing their dead cells.