Inside Forever

Inside forever I know a woman, who steeps tea from sage gathered on the slopes of Lebanon. She’s having tea with another woman who took a plane there recently, rising up on the swan-winged aircraft to land with her easel and brush in a market square inside forever. They pitch tangerine and aqua-colored tents over their shop tables in that sun-full land, which sometimes is a desert and sometimes a seashore. They teach classes to children who are constantly arriving and leaving as they grow. The inside of this place is like the outside when you’re a child, it goes on horizon after horizon, and all roads lead home, a new home, one you’re inspecting to see if the newness smells right. I wish you all a poem today inside this place, perhaps displayed on one of those market tables under a canopy of brilliant green.

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