What I thought of saying might have caught

the cogs of conversation, set us reeling,

minds engaging. Maybe. But if not,

a tight recoil could follow such revealing.

In dreams we freely skip life's slippery waltz,

unveiling kindred spirits 'neath each face,

but real appearance—hard and bright and false—

is chipped away by long-honed commonplace.

Our hallway meeting's thus extempore show

of finding foothold in banality.

We speak old incantations with new glows

of demonstrated capability.