Inscrutable Border Poem by Max Reif

At the boundary
of heaven and hell,
infiltration goes on
in both directions
all the time,

though the barrier
is so well-policed
that the strongest fists
can't even make a dent,
an army of howling sinners
can't budge it an inch.

Walking down College Avenue
in the drizzling rain just now
after the dance class,

I realized I'd slipped
into a realm of quiet joy,

yet I recall the suffocating
curtain I wore for self-protection
at last night's gathering
and couldn't take off.

I don't remember seeing any gate
to mark a passage
between metaphysical opposites,
not even a sign.

Even extremes —
So close, so close,
they almost overlap.

I