The Other Poem by Max Reif

Sartre had it half right.
Half of hell is other people,
the other half is not having them.

Two or three times I've been in auto collisions,
and once in awhile crossing aisles at a store
in that little 'you go this way and I'll go that way' dance,
sonar fails and I bump right into somebody—

But it seems almost every time I enter a room
I bump headlong into someone's mind,
caroming off their habits or their demands,
usually sending that person reeling off of mine.

Sages eternally tell us that we're all One.
That makes me want to go deep inside.
So I try to sit still and dive into that darkness,
till I find myself bumping off something in there, too.
Or else I slip through that barrier and find some peace.
Then I open my eyes and the whole world starts up again.