so different from the garbage dump
with its soft sweet dust and decay
so unlike the sleepers of the underpass
we all stand in line for the doors to open
for the play to start
rustling our programs
changing our minds
speaking cleverly
softly to be overheard
by somebody influential
who will turn and say
golly, you’re brilliant!
may I finance you?
Water trickles perpetually out of nowhere
defying the gravity of the situation with levity
we are overwhelmed by monumentality
concrete and marble trump solid atoms
I bring my grey head into the theatre
ready to be enlightened by an hour of thought
Then I leave and forget in the face of water
trickling onto my skull.
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