The Number Two is Made from Ones

The outside escapes here
nonchalantly passing by
water on glass or
water with oil
surfaces find one another
Reflect two faces
Communicate silently
Turn and go two separate ways

The skin remembers an imprint
unlike the story the eyes always seem to say
It’s outside of the blood that
in here are
dying tissue purple red
Agile movements, abrupt shoves
are stored inside tiny fibers
collectively made into permeable
webs weaving tissues that seek a way from itself
Hairs waving in a breeze
while anchored down to the nearness
Hairs as tiny flags proclaim
the territory of oxygen
to send reports back

Magnanimous friction speaks in
single tones
decipherable into a zodiac by intuitive gongs of solid
iron and bone.
No memory alkaloid finds a
differentiation between materials
Each soft and metallic density
is engravable just the very same.

Impassable barriers are what they
are because we see
two banks
Because we see the walkable bridge
But there are no banks
No stairs to claim
Merely two shores and
a path we know to create or
creatively know.
Who can tell?
The finger points, but nothing is there.
The curtain pulls back to reveal the cement wall
The lights shine to show translucent air waning towards a distance.
The box was empty all along
We realized
after a thorough investigation of every side,
every crevice where top meets bottom
fails to bond as one and the same.
The inside was one side of
the molecularly dense
ball
To the left!
Destination of comparison
my other that is I
we are two for one
indivisible, numerically defied,
inarticulate.