fleeced by a passing dream
having shined all the visible tables
having stood frozen to watch them shine
and sidewalks sliding and slithering
past crooked poles and small deserts
past lights wavering and cans tipped
toward little jungles that drink up
the leaking hacked containers
and the shapely ooze
I am alone in terrors
that are universe wide
neon framed from hubs
trembling in webs that never glisten
harps wafting whose pluck never ends
bone singing through a chain of heads
the scrubbed bus stop that never stops blinking
steep reservoir that churns with silent friends.
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