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the meeting
alfred corn
that makes identity slot in, its clip
coinciding with that signature
stride acquired roughly the same year
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....
renascence at street level. twilit, lamplit
hours stretch ahead, where, with a high-test
line 7 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 8, 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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