It is necessary to look, a second time

I think sometimes we happen upon another soul
just in time to juxtapose our drifting medley
of turn styles, cramped living, and inhibitions.

Your gaze connects with eyes dispirate and enchanting but this is not what you see.

You see a painted world,
saturated with a virescent flow of calm fire,
your own reflection softened and invited into a delicate but rigid black frame.

A living sculpture in a mechanical world.

As quickly as this brief marcato for the soul began,
so it ends with the staccato of a metro train,
the din of reserved conversation,
and a feeling of want and uncertainty.