arrhythmia

communication's mostly a mirage
who knows what meaning others' words convey
we think we penetrate the camouflage
and hope it's plain to them what we would say
the minds of others might be just like ours
but that's an axiom we'll never know
at best, we know our own reasoning powers
the rest is mere induction and say-so
each mind's alone, at sea on the wide world
the rest may be mere figments we construct
but no one dwells on that when boy meets girl
until the morning after we've first made love
what's left unspoken can--one hopes--be guessed
completing in your head our feeble jest