Cipher

    The tower across the street from the café bricked in a window    or the possibility of light shut up with bricks

that don’t quite match the preexisting stonework, the shade of age        being impossible to replicate. I saw thisthrough the glass door of the café propped open

        or the possibility of bleeding        what is out into what is in.

I wonder how many vegan, raspberry bars would go uneaten if they closed that door, how many vegan, queer men would bike down the street and order an Americano to go from some other person with blue swaths on their body instead of standing next to me in line,

both of us searching the other man’s shoes for that subtle rune meaning yes.