Unless someone
else puts the guitar back
Into its case and
then carries it home,
After the final
song that celebrates
True love, and
the crowd chases the young couple
Walking away,
drawing behind a bridesmaid
Who catches the
restless eye of the cleaner,
Who drops his
cleaning and rushes outside
To get a glimpse
of her as, with a wave
Of the hand, she
descends into the car
As into the sea,
and he who is carrying
The guitar picks
up a limp, little rose
From the chaos
abandoned by the cleaner,
Since it too
might want to be somewhere else,
The last to go
from the church is the cleaner.
