Tourists

They come- visitors with a
bang, knocking on the door
of this closed museum, no
hours of operation will keep
them home.

Their sense of rule
bewilders me, I would
not sully your floor if
you invited me inside
your door.

And no amount of anger
would let me disrespect
the desk where you work
where you hang your
coat, no, if I were next

in line I would wait
my turn, and let the
lightbulb shine upon
your curtain call. I
know the rules

of travel, yes I do
so these wanderers 
with noose and chain
haven't got me
fooled.