at the front desk,
Pete is overwhelmed
by the number of
folks
insisting they have
guaranteed reservations
for the
suites
on the top floors;
a crowd is clustered
around the concierge
desk,
trying to get Mike's
attention (with
at least $50 folded in
their palms)
to get tickets
for the streetcar which
will take us down
the see-through gold
streets;
we are double-checking
the floor plans at the
website, trying to
figure out exactly
where
we will place the
antiques stored back
home;
meanwhile,
you
and the maintenance
crew are busy removing
all
the bars and locks
from the gates, pouring
so much water
on the hinges, that
when they rust, no
human efforts will
ever swing them
shut;
then,
wiping your hands
on the bandana pulled
out of your
back pocket,
you smile to yourself,
'there. now no one can be
turned
away.'
(c) Thom M. Shuman
Venmo: @Thom-Shuman
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