"Up in the Corner"

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Up in the corner

Around the left of the first door

After that last flight of stairs

I sit and I stare

I see the hands

That push the brooms

That swing the mops

I see the repetition

I see the suits

That march and scuff

I see smiles for others

Curses for themselves

I see the young ones

Skip steps and bruise elbows

Spill ice cream and

Choreograph imagination

I see the passing

Passionate interludes

The trading of secret goods

The adjusted hair pieces

All thought hidden

Up in the corner

I hold in my shadow

I piece their puzzle

I write my web


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