Saturday, June 24, 2006

The Highlands at Brighton III


Each person who enters
changes the room:

moves the netted curtain
exposing me to view

leaves the closed door open
tugs the heavy wingback seat askew

sniffs my air, exhales their scent
stabs quiet, braying empty news

lowers safety rails
moves bags away from easy reach

narrows the tight path
I must wheel through

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