Thursday, February 18, 2010

The Warehouse

When someone was holding me
I was holding a small home-made rocket.
It’s uncool they told me. A large number
in place of a swallow is uncool I said back.
But that’s like telling me when I visit
you you’re just seeing things. It’s like telling me
a valuable gift can be held between your thumbs I said.
We weren’t wearing anything in particular.
It was unexpected for the prize-warehouse
where we were steeping a huge drink.
I hate being a giant you said. Drink this
and compare it to the color of your hands
said a hidden and sparklingly young mad boy.
Who is not here I said. The rest of us you said.
Evidence of the escape the boy said.

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