Before the Angels Come

you think as you stare out the doorway
no not the doorway but rather the window
angels never use the doorway
so you wait and watch
and sometimes you even stare
out the window
where night shuffles time
an old soft shoe
no need for people no need
they always use the doorway
no need to see their eyes no need
empty and spent
a vacant lot filled with time
hollow like a dream a child’s rubber ball
bouncing back and forth

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