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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
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
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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