Against Telepathy

It is a peak once dreamed about,
washed with green-
blue supernatural rain
in rivulets as are only found in Hawai’i,
and which we now see, draped in
rain falling simply
like long hair
from clouds—
we are going up, up, up,
nature is going down, down, down,
personified by the rain,
the oaks we pass,
and the dull
electric violet butterfly
that charms,
though none of these is a person.
The mind projects
as the peak stays with us,
each time we look back
and all the way down,
the line of hikers descending as
a lazy, confident
S
with a blue tail.