By and by these five men will leave
The safety of Saenredam's portico
To enter a poem and perform wonders
One will gesture just so and find
He grasps a sharp curved sword
That trembles in his hand. Another
Will throw his hat in the air and see it
Grow wings and fly due west. The one
With the floppy hat will close his eyes
And dream that I'm writing about him.
The last two -- the ones who stand
So far apart, staring at each other --
Will grasp each other's hands and dance
Until the poem ends and for half an hour more.
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