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.