The seasons
beautiful involved,
lovely like invisible elevators,
who thought to get off
at the next stop
who thought the party
was always there.
The lamps were on
the glasses arrange themselves
in the green light.
There was a familiar spirit
that changed into a hush
on the hills in the evening
when the room darkens,
and one can see no farther
than the face in the window
it is as if a century has passed
and people in the theater
waltz out from their seats
as the lights turn on
and new ones waltz in.
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