The Tao of Utopia - An Urban Exploration Poem
Stopping far from a level concourse behind a mahogany door
to a room where a girl poses for a portrait on the floor
between a large book and a crooked television.
Her gossamer night dress hasn't been changed from in nights and days.
There was no thunder, no glowing doorway, no mysterious wind blowing through the apartment, and no choir of angels politely alerting me that physics had submitted its resignation.
The deck simply felt heavier.