HOLDING THE
LONESOME-BELL
The nexus, the sexus, and the plexus of all
I've ever known and been - a streamlined
oasis, so running down my back. Grade school
merchandise, the memories and the Spring Fair,
little kids running around with vacant bicycles
and scary stares. Up front, somewhere, a broken
teacher ringing a bell for love and participation.
-
Who will ever speak up for the animals I see at
my side? Or are they just imagined like the rest
of these crudites and shallow wafers? In a
fairyland world such as this, who makes
distinctions of what is and what is not?
That sorry teacher, holding a bell?
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