looking past the glass
windows cut into stone walls
lining brick-laid streets
encasing faceless mannequins
watching the world spin by
some sitting on bar stools
others standing in pose
modeling teacups or tumblers
elbows rising and falling in time
outsiders dare not look inside
lest they become mesmerized
lured into a complacent hold
baring nothing but skin and bone
november two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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