Waitress at the Morpheme Cafe

Gay Courtiers

She disregards the solitude

Entangled in the threads

of tablecloths and bathing rings

and a new band of friends

They take her hands, that merry crew

Gay courtiers and thieves

they lift her to a sunny loft

Hidden among the leaves

Below, the grownups sit and chat:

"My Moebius class never ends."

"This cake is made with carob."

"You simply must read Arendt."

And now it's time to open up

the window, not the door

and climb down a shaky ladder

to groundfall, not a floor

They pull her along. Beneath, the sun

Warms footfalls, and their feet

They steal to where the trees part

with a path that feels compleat

Behind them, warmth and light and sun

In front, the gloom and green.

One last overheard comment

from the drawling drawing room scene

"Where are the children?"

Now it's time

Not to say goodbye, but go.

They melt

in 

darkness

and

become

something

they

don't

know