2.11.2009

Fulcrum


and we were in a living room eating fruit. from a bowl. An outside grew overwhelming and intrusive. A long, arduous thing, mostly gibberish. A club. As a huge hovering nothing attaching itself to the tops of buildings.

Engines.

There are tired screens. Some fruit. Some senseless horizon where tomorrow we’ll be jobs. Trees will impose on a wake. An oar.

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