Negotiation

Clutching after reality I make my way in the setting sun

(Seeking out the unlit door,
Paper bag rumpled in the corner,
Old man hunching up the dirty steps.)

I walk through the iron-studded door into the mythic sanctuary

(Walls covered with metaphors,
Banks of unlit penny candles,
Stained glass.)

I light the wooden stick from a nearby flickering prayer

(Smell the old dust and new wax,
Kneel on the seasoned wood,
Listen for the echoes in the cubbyholes.)

One for you, one for me, one for the middle ground