There is a secret door outside the bank, leading into an adjacent building, where the homeless sleeps under ‘Cardboard Only’

So she used to train lions in Brasil huddled close to red alley wall, or where Buddha sits against giant Tree of Life next to calm waters loose with lotus flowers; where roots reach into the pond, a man sits under ‘Cardboard Only’

Plastic flaps behind recycle bins hide the secret door, where we study little people of our street underneath crazy lights, dark inside the mind –

Where the atmosphere is pink and misty,

Where boys in defiant caps are taken out to lunch, Where Mama starts choking and Papa says, “Shhh..”

Before golden tea poured over ice and lemon,

Where young girl runs down the sidewalk wonderous at discovery of new world in pink polka dot dress, curly hair.

The world is now, for Daniel in the lion’s den, where the old women alone are using technology at the dinner table,

On the sidewalk next to statuettes of golden goats, 

Where old Indians stare at the sun.


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