The
beautiful clouds they spew in the cold.
A
blotch of earth. A wild
forsythia. Yellow.
A
factory calmly rises and falls.
It
is taken back as soon as it is given
Fortune
and favor, hard hats, bubbles
I
can feel them still
Are
you selling enough product?
Bright
spots, with clumps of grey-blue
I
am pretending not to notice.
This
continues for several hundred pages.
There
is a feeling I am walking around
A
destructive assault on the mind.
The
children want you to go back to the box
Where
the toy thoughts are kept.
This
is the bitter one
I
ordered the silky butter nut!
Your
attention drifting back to the sky
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