Bumped Into

I am as full of me as you are of you.
It may not be important; it is just what we do.

I was never bumped into in Prague nor in Paris.
Indeed, I have not been bumped into even in Eugene.
Mostly we were strangers who smiled without meeting;
we were not always judging some party or side of a street.
We moved, asked direction, and gossiped some meme;
we were bumped, ignored, glared at, or winked at as at home.
I am filled enough of you and you are filled enough of me
that we touch and decide to travel to Paris and Prague
but we never expected to make it all the way to Eugene.