The lights
salute from windows
sidewalk navigators on the bus route
waiting to be saved by a feeling
waiting to be felt by a savior
with a room
a shower
a card game
warm milk
someone to carry them through doors
to increase them
into morning
The windows
have blinds.
The blinds
have names;
Venetian
Roller
Roman
and somehow
in the quiet
they mean more
than our own
identities.
I do not wait for someone.
I climb through inviting windows.
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