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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=569665" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Public Places</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=569665" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Sometimes the sun sets sideways<br>And pushes outdoors all of your hopes, <br>Like Cinderella is sweeping<br>Her eyes so beautiful but no one cares, <br>And her lover comes with candles in his beard<br>All tide up in nooses for little dreams, <br>Somnambulant toddlers culled from the waves, <br>And now they say that they have no backbone, <br>But even Satan has a backbone, <br>Even when he is lighter than the clouds<br>And caracoling the moon, <br>And the traffic sings his praises and dances<br>Every which way it can, <br>As Evan comes down from the uninhabitable<br>Mountain sideswiping with his brother, <br>As Sharon is in her little joys and her little stores, <br>Mopping up with all her eyes, <br>And I would just like to be as beautiful as her<br>Shadow<br>Coming down the mountain trying to make friends<br>And kiss strangers through the brambles and<br>Spikenard of my motionless bicycles, <br>Those things that are too hard to say and which <br>Most beautiful women would prefer not to <br>Hold hands with in public places.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Bret+R.+Crabrooke">Bret R. Crabrooke</a></strong></div>