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paste!
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presquid or the ultramodern man who never spoke
he has a boat in his mouth
and a paintbrush in his hand
what you think is unraveling, really isn’t,
because on this coast, you begin
to question why things are the way things are.
your falling apart a few weeks ago,
that incredible pork chop,
and who hasn’t been around, oh yeah, the dealer.
he goes back inside to wash his hands
what it all came down to was last summer,
that secretive plot that you made,
the one that was going to change things
from weakness into gold.
he enters the water, comes back as a shark
when did you last check your pulse?
it really isn’t unraveling, right?
yes, you remember now.
the way things were supposed to be.
you gave yourself the original blueprint
not the degraded facsimile.
he grinds his teeth
he swats the horse from his forehead
so, glad it turned out this way again?
you remembered it, to get the tank filled,
and then you just bolted for the highway.
you pulled over to step into The Dark Recess
of So Many Translucent Things.
he pulls up a chair
when you last wondered, you thought
the world was made
for you to recruit diamond-like objects.
you made an incredible choice last week,
didn’t you?
he smokes a cigarette
and dives off a cliff
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