Red or brown

it doesn’t matter

what color they are.

They hold the cup

which we fill constantly

to come here—

they take the tokens

and deliver us

to this place

where we float

a little higher

than would be allowed

at breakfast, say,

or lunch—

those milestones

of the day we reach

and jump across

to land in this gauzy room

where our thoughts

can blend with the music

as well as everything outside

these windows—

which look to us

like stained glass—

colorful and distorted,

yet perfectly clear.



DeMaris Gaunt


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