portals, passageways and portages beckon today 
 
     windows open, their mullions gracefully seductive 
 
     behind ever neighbors house is a laughing horizon 
 
     it's a day of doors slightly ajar and half spoken thoughts
 
     every common street remembers 
 
     the urban grid and feveral highway system 
 
     that came here and can lead away 
 
     bikes are poised 
 
     trains sing in the distance
 
     there is gas in the car 
 
     a contrail of a jet bisects the sky 
 
     while birds wheel overhead 
 
     a truck goes by like an open invitation 
 
     I think the passport 
 
     is in the top left drawer
 
     of the desk in the spare room