By Allan Peterson
The brain has a sense of itself
the mind, and the mind
has a sense of itself, the soul
and the soul sees itself
in others as if a single being.
That's how we see it.
The owners having been briefed,
who present to each other
a resumé of dreams as credentials
and the bones in a jar named for us.
Us evenly, us symmetrical,
us with our charming illusions,
saying from the heart. your breathing
is mine, and meaning it.