Through wooden double doors,
like walking through a time machine
but destination not set back to a date of great significance
not time nor place that might spark important controversial
and social discussions at the tip of a thrusting vocalized spit sward
not science nor religion defied
not the place great historians rigorously and brutally debate over
inside text books and universities
no
these wooden doors
cracked and sullen, fat from their lonely years of humidity and quiet as the tree they came from
popped the cork of a tragic day
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