just as the stage is for sharing stories
over plates of meat and cheese,
cooled to close, knives and curtains.
the garage is for art,
just as the studio is for drilling
holes into life, letting in light
for the eclipses of our hearts.
beware of fear for it is fake,
as is tomorrow seen from yesterland,
a continuation of crying,
so better belt out a tune before it is too late.