at the threshold of the door

I scanned the faces and didn’t see you
I walked out, then followed some other people back in
the poet ke was in the front row stone faced
she motioned to me with her hand to sit next to her
so I did. I smiled at her but her face remained stone
and I felt self-conscious of my presence
having just come from forest, boots on and mud
on my pants. the Italian lady at the podium said we were in for something
sublime. I took off my coat and the smell of musk came
and the smell of broken home came from the shirt
I was wearing, a friend gave to me. ke bent down
to get something from her purse and up came the smell
of flowers. the man began reading backwards memories
and talking about meditation, the feeling of floating it brings
him, how he can feel all his senses and be in tune to reality.
I thought, you could smoke marijuana for the same effect.
I saw pieces of tape pressed sideways under a desk
and felt you someplace behind me, part of the crowd

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