Monday, 11 April 2005

talking to cars

Do you not want? asks the traffic.
I want for nothing. I say, I have everything I need right here.

Walking away is always a negativity; look not at the skies. Guessing at the situation, at the removal of another, a blissful retraction of old, dusty words piled upon the bookshelves, you make me and I am made.

You hate reliance, I hate too much. You will teach me, and the follies of the baby, angry to be alive, always screaming with gorgeous ponds for eyes, the sight of birth. Your mother never gave you away to anything, especially not nature, and you are loved for it. You will love again.

Please don't answer this.

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