Tribal Rain Dance on a Tuesday W/Ralphie

From the four corners of Baltimore,
We gathered at the meeting place:
Bird-In-Hand Café on 33rd Street,
On this cold, wet Election Day, 2017.

I spotted my friend,
Whom I’d only known from the Cyberverse,
Exchanged hugs and greetings,
And met our host, Ralphie,
A name I’ve known for decades.

Quickly, we found our past connection
In the Universe:
Neighboring planets orbiting around the same Sun,
Whose radiance is The Word.

Over a mocha latte,
I took in the light
Of greater planets than my own.

This was a night of poetry:
“Words [spoken] between the lines of age;”
Rekindling our shared epics,
Odes, and tragi-comedies
Created on our separate journeys
Through time and space,
Here coalesced into one place—
A micro-nova
That sparked, burned, and faded
In less than 2 hours.

We bought each other’s books,
Posed for selfies,
And split apart once more,
Into the rainy night,
Our individual cars,
Our separate lives.

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