Among the birthday messages and calls
(appreciated, sure, but like a list
to monitor, who’d sooner dance in thralls
of solitude, by words and puzzles blissed),
the hour spent with one who wasn’t missed,
the paramour from 50 years ago,
then twice-refused, a different row to hoe,
surprised me with its mental nicety –
a dialogue between two minds that know
today, as then, compatibility.