men and women see places in the night differently
men see doors and the kind of entrances and exits
women look to the windows and all the glittering
i lingered by the base of the tarpeian rock on a winter evening
and i imagine the kinds of shadows and echoes that floated
high over plaster ceilings with oil lamps held by slaves
and the ramparts supposedly secure a night owl calling to another
we are responsible for everything we do hero or villain
the response and magnifications of the world are harsh
even absurd to the level of myth that keeps one forever wondering
when were we truly innocent &
trying to remember all the feelings
when one was
that way
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