we could give so much up. chewing gum and privacy.
we could catch this wheel mid-roll and trap it in a borrowed
terrarium before we have to re-invent it. we could curate
the junk,
methodically: all the first attempts, the righteous feverish
ones
in diorama display while the second shots – more humble – drape friendly
in brighter corridors. in the lobby
they’ll ask you to sit criss-cross
on the floor, kiss your ankles to your tails, bow to the
milk white antlers
arranged in six point star and scrape the playdo off your paws
cast that residue offering high across
the good architect’s
sunshine.
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