Retrieved Moments by Gary Beck
How strange to meet the past,
as idle as a sensual spider
flicking arms of whimsy
for the new day’s destiny
that captures us again
coursing streets of passion,
building pyres of ambition.
Suddenly, as if the past
were opening a torpid eye
of human interference,
someone we once knew
is shunted before us
raising the specter of old visions.
The moment’s pause,
strained words of greeting,
then a relieved farewell,
but later the revelation
that the tendrils of time
spin despite us.
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