Once a shrouded man walled in by secrets
flew through the door to replace his stolen
book, Empire. I couldn't see his eyes.
He paid by cash leaving no trace behind.
He asked for enlightenment, and I thought
architecture. For the record Penguin's
Portable Enlightenment Reader could
have been ordered. We discussed rows,
columns, epochs, decades all in one book
he hadn't finished. His wall crumbled with
an exhalation. I stared and I saw
blue fire that anyone would row towards.
As he left I was handed a written
post-it, remember, remember these eyes.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment