hoping to meet myself

someday,
in a dream coffee-house
in a park
or outside a rave,

I'd like to finally meet myself:
size me up,
get a good look in the windows of my soul
(the eyes beneath the eyes,)
ask some questions
that have been on my mind a long time,
and above all:
to apologize about some things

this is, mostly, why I write my poems:
they are ornate invitations
as yet only met with polite letters of regret