They‘re both convinced

　　that a sudden passion joined them.

　　Such certainty is beautiful，

　　but uncertainty¹ is more beautiful still

　　Since they‘d never met before，they’re sure

　　that there‘d been nothing between them.

　　But what‘s the word from the streets，staircases，hallways—

　　perhaps they‘ve passed each other a million times？

　　I want to ask them

　　if they don‘t remember—

　　a moment face to face

　　in some revolving² door？

　　perhaps a“sorry”muttered in a crowd？

　　a curt“wrong number”caught in the receiver？

　　but I know the answer.

　　No，they don‘t remember

　　They‘d be amazed to hear

　　that Chance has been toying with them

　　now for years.

　　Not quite ready yet

　　to become their Destiny，

　　it pushed them close，drove them apart，

　　it barred their path，

　　stifling³ a laugh，

　　and then leaped aside.

　　There were signs and signals，

　　even if they couldn‘t read them yet.

　　Perhaps three years ago

　　or just last Tuesday

　　a certain leaf fluttered

　　from one shoulder to another？

　　Something was dropped and then picked up.

　　Who knows，maybe the ball that vanished

　　into childhood‘s thicket⁴？

　　There were doorknobs and doorbells

　　where one touch had covered another

　　beforehand.

　　Suitcases checked and standing⁵ side by side.

　　One night，perhaps，the same dream，

　　grown hazy⁶ by morning.

　　Every beginning

　　is only a sequel，after all，

　　and the book of events

　　is always open halfway⁷ through.