there is no color.
you have been given a hall pass;
why aren’t you wandering?
tunnels of cool white tile, green carpet as quiet as moss,
hundreds of stampeding feet now caught in class.
if you go straight from point a to
point b, you are squandering your
right to stay in the liminal
for just a little while.
every thing will pick back up too
quickly and too easily and this
moment will be gone. with great
beauty comes great risk—the light of
dawn; and the bigger dare: to follow the
red neon signs and exit the building.