The People Like You and Me

My heart belongs in a fixture room
In the chamber; in the mind
The riverbed, behind
the rib-lined cage; rippling with
cynical contraction.
This atrium could house our kind
when the u boats circle in a splintered line
Outside, zip ties bind an arc where
misanthropes can murmur;
Where tiny laughter hangs itself on the
scattered shelves, azure and
under grid-hooks;
Where pulsing talk of sounds and books
compose the cavity that holds us;
Where I could keep affinity,
between bi-weekly wages,
company policy, and polo shirts
in a secluded stage.

In the gateway of receiving,
loving anthos blooms between the pegs;
Where a planogram could only extend
where temperament,on knock-kneed legs,
palpitates, and ascends.

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