One way to be lost is to back pedal
over tracks. Reverse step into each footprint,
match heel and toe exactly so you become
invisible, erased as cleanly as
that puff of breath exhaled into fog.
Another way, much more subtle
but just as easy, is to insert oneself into crowds.
Follow the pace of the horde, shuffle quietly
shoulder to shoulder, sidle in sideways
and become absolutely hidden.
This is the true double-cross.
We are so alike we render ourselves translucent,
float like tiny fish under the current,
become white noise, indistinguishable
from the rest of the confusion.
The real secret to disappearing though,
is to live out in the open, back to the sun —
faceless, and acquiescing. The camouflage
of so many single weeds blanketing an empty lot,
verdant, sweeping, and ultimately, unseen.