Calling them strange occurrences
would be wrong, yet they seem like that.
As though there was a world
beyond the question-mark
you had to slip into and like.
Here, there is a cauldron of constant
possibilities and impossibilities.
Here, the game plays out,
which will outplay you.
Let us just be grateful that
you and I have met this evening.
In this rain, in this wild horn
of traffic, we stand under
our umbrellas. Let us be grateful
that we have met.
The above poem first appeared in Nthposition, and is part of my first book Reeling (2012).