THIS IMAGINATION
I broke through the tree line, I entered the realm:
diamonds, jewels, stones, gems, starlight, all those
things in one place, mine. Satisfied to a fault,
I found no more reason than that to remain.
-
My own life had long ago amassed enough.
Around me, precarious and bold, things
balanced on the faintest holds of reason
and belief. Mute people, like broken
chests of treasure spilling their
contents, aimlessly forced their
ways. Manner and custom,
the flag that waves.
-
This was all juice for jerks, I'd
decided long ago. A seventeen-story
building can mean only one thing -
seventeen stories of the flat and
the feeble; Gumby people bent
on a weird survival. Facts and
figures, dollars and cents.
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