Almost the final patrons
In the university museum cafe
Until two sisters enter
Glasses, worn for indignation
Which may soon be released
If the counter staff do not return
Why would I make it difficult
Keep it sweet, keep it short
Keep it within the limitations
I often make ill defined connections
From this obscurity to that, from
One nowhere circumstance, to another
As in the letters
Where the flow is lost;
One river stops
One river starts
Discontinuing their
Breaks in continuity
Where tired shoes tramp off
Without guidance; their footfalls
Fall where footfalls have always fallen
Stolen, from the lack of a campaign
Without cause enough to believe in
As if to say: Yes, I am treading water
This is a poem from Vagaries:
Love of The Key to Room 149
