He’s hardly said hello to them when the man at the shelter asks,
Did anyone ever tell you you are intense?
Yes, he laughs, they have.
The conversation drifts to hemlocks and hiking.
His companion out here on a quest to find her name.
Poet?, she wonders. No, not quite right.
Later, he asks his friends if they think he is intense.
It’s when you’re not talking I notice it, she says, when you go away in your head.
He laughs, remembering when he’s been told this before.
Later, meets Moccasin again.
Why do you think I am intense, he asks. What is it that I do, I mean, what behavior shows that, that something I think I am doing right now? He laughs. They all laugh. Looking each other in the eye, tracking their thoughts, noticing everything, never letting go.