Tuesday, August 4, 2009

487. ABSTRACT #7

ABSTRACT #7
Smutter the cling of that sour oasis
for there is nothing there but dire want.
The shoes are brown, seemingly forever.
Having walked an entire globe, they
hunger for more, with their tongues
hanging out. Surcease of violent
commitment, the awkward man
nearby is shadow boxing with
his own Hell - another epitome
outfoxed by marvel, a new
set of boxing gloves, all
glossy and laced, set to
pounce once more on
enigma and doubt. A
twenty-second century
hearse rolls by.Yellow,
like a taxi, it is now
filled with passengers,
yet driven by a
rat.

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