The Meeting 詩
The MeetingRekindled consciousness, abrupt as a slap
That makes identity slot in, its clip
Coinciding with that signature
Stride acquired roughly the same year
I learned the best defense was an offense.
It's been my hup-two-three-four ever since.
Close to an hour of floating unawake
Over a book, my mind on coffee break,
Indifferent to the train's compulsive surge
At minus-fifty feet. I felt submerged
Beneath whitewater's liquid hammers, some
Cool, tumultuous onrush of time....
Amphibian! embody your emphatic
Renascence at street level. Twilit, lamplit
Hours stretch ahead, where, with a high-test
Line smoothly unreeled, players will all cast
Themselves in the lead role, while those they've turned
Out to meet will do the same in turn.
Recurrent happenstance: it sort of steadies.
First I, then you, will swim the crowd's brisk eddies
And swirls, we'll fist-bump, hug, invent smart-aleck
Putdowns and tender compliments alike.
And when it's time to remove hooks, oh, we'll
Be careful, we'll be kind as possible.
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