Membranes

Slumbering souls

Float down the highway

Dreaming soap-bubble thoughts,

Living cul-de-sac lives in

Oily skins, wrapped tight

Around balls of emptiness,

Blown into existence by

The wrinkled lips of

A wide-eyed child.

Glistening in the sun,

Like animated impressions of Life,

They are and are not.

Each unique,

Perfect in its geometry,

Each alone, untouchable,

Each a note in a silent symphony of joy,

Each a breath of air held for a while

At the exhilaration of the ride,

At the horror of a sudden end.

I see them, and

They see me.

We marvel at the sight of us,

Our membranes tremble

As we pull close, closer,

Then touch

And wake.

Reviews

[redzone]

Interesting!! Your poem, a unique view of the feel and touch of the meeting of people. Of the way we see each other in our ride through life. I hope I haven't tread too strangely in your poetic words, as I enjoyed reading this poem. Thanks for sharing it.
-Curt

[Laz K.]

Thank you, Curt, for reading and commenting.
All interpretations are on the table, as I myself often wonder about what I mean. :)