I stand in City Hall staring down through the window of the
arched door to the street with the letters of the towns name looking back at me
backwards, a door through which she
walked five days a week, under those letters and into the array of doorways or up
the stairs, the compartment of lives she no longer shares
and I wonder if she even misses being there, finding my
arrival here a sacrilege-- she would
despise if she was aware, she being somewhere else after being someplace remote,
forced to live her life not far from here, as if purgatory as she waits for God
to deside if she will end up in heaven or hell
I'm standing here
waiting to see the mayor rumor claims fired her though she may well not have
been, fleeing before the ax could fall, allowed to live to see another day, if
not here and then elsewhere, while I stand trying to imagine how she felt
coming and going ,one of the crowd, while also apart, a slightly elevated soul,
who is waiting out limbo for the next step, the next stepping stone to Paradise
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