I will dream this lake
and when I do you will see
with eyes of soot, with
eyes unknown to us, black
holes worming in and out
the field of vision--
smart cheerleaders,
granted quarters, quirky
gumballs and candy corn.
Touche to you, the stampede,
with its backbreaks and
hollering from above.
1 comment:
all that's solid melts to air.
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