dummy

The door is the door to our house.

Here are the columns, and here is

the door between the columns.

This is the Grecian, with its portico

(and its pediment) modelled after

the Greek temple. A house for the

heavens. The proportions are all

smooth; the statues are exact. I can

stand here with you and show you

the rooms; we can carry it in…

I suppose. What year is this? A wind

whips through me. Not too many

more of us can fit in this frame.

The second story is lopped off–

it was lopped off–in ruins by now–the

Parthenon, look–it would have had

a leak / you didn’t hear it break / you

missed your appointment–it was that

place, that room, the practice moved

to a new building / you couldn’t

relate, you left your car running–

the dream-piano at least (altered)

the cathedral fallen de-emphasized

its hinges / the locks busted

you went on and you flipped

into the wound-up, flower beds.