The Ideal

Is it gone? The bearded men and the shaved heads,
While the slow consideration leans, stand by the wood and wait
In ripped fabric for steam and the caffeine
That issues from the steam. Faces of men who see,
Perhaps a little quietly, in the morning, the plan that unfolds
With blue eyes (and it is a part of sex) and with arms that raise strongly
The foundations of a perhaps white country (the candid
Sharpness of their faces) while the I that floats and buzzes like a fly
Settles on the coffee and wonders, “Is it gone?”