So words fail.

Two poets meet in a bar
and the girl says hi,
and the guy says hi,
like an old joke,
and neither can read the frozen faces
because there are no pages,
and even so, who can be sure
who really meant what when they wrote
one lonely starlit night.

Commonality is, in turn, their curse
and when they brave a stare
into each other's hypnotic blue eyes,
they cower fiercely,
stealing their a thousand poems,
and then, they return to their
safe poetry anthologies and normal apartments
to suck out all the marrow of
leftover fried chicken bones.

Everyone's a poet.