Porter and I
and
steam to enough to
Makeceiling fan
Whose blades had been revolving
For what seemed like generations,
A slow and
pushing wasted
We
Porter's dreams
such as this, quotidian
Tintedwaking hours
And.
The open door
Intermittently
I could tell
departed from the
Andtile walls
stain
ting change, so Porter
And theled
Pdreams and realities suffusingwere open as the diner door.