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The Orange Door

A slow walk up Centennial

and I still can’t find the place

it's menacing cold, and muted

and the street sweeper and winter breeze

move the Turkish blend and dust pack

 

A novice mixed duet plays

Brahms on broken strings

the erhu and overcoat

veiling a blue heeler and sphinx

 

Maggianos is settled in the center block’s

luminance and seasonal drape

it's festive warmth bringing home Bedford Falls;

the flavour and character and social circles

 

Annie’s playing and the keeper's singing

(his word pool and slander

raising everyone in arms!)

the crowd chants and mayhem breaks

as crawlers and contemporaries

smash their steins

 

Dark alleys and dripping holes

hold a grim reminder of the pierced underside

paddies flutter and forge their words

with a broad manifesto

 

Night gardens come alive

(slowly sapping the respite)

hunched figures and ladies in lace

shuffle inside the big orange door

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Written by
ck-baker
Published
Oct 19, 2017
Lines·Words
27·146
Permission

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