Like wandering through
a gallery and fastening
on a particular painting
and letting it become
your universe for
seconds at a time,
like flipping through
the pages of a novel
until a certain passage
claims your attention,
its sense and illusion
spilling into your mind,
like meeting a stranger
at a cafe or airport
and feeling a sudden
rapport that has no
explanation beyond
the shared time,
a poem is a voice
from the end of the
bridge that leads
to another mind,
speaking in tongues
of flesh and blood,
laughter and fire,
revealing the selves
we harbor and define.
![](https://sisyphuslitmag.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/07/51Jj7h4C6VL._SX320_BO1204203200_.jpg)
The meeting of minds. Yes, indeed.