Backwards on eventual results
To reverse the flow direction
Of invisible curtains opening
And closing like eyes or leaves
Though often the rigmarole prevails
Despite the monumental afternoon
And the mind’s first impulse
To give itself away in a flourish
Of laughter and self-justification
But always the future leaks in
With its not having to be this way
And forever gestures at the window
That could still offer an escape
Of epical proportions for today
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