under a potpourri of
tentacles stretching across
all gloaming shorelines.
i have got the news on
and what I see is a deer.
then this kid walks in.
he says it's done. & slowly,
hat in hand, i stride in to
pilfer a glance at this freak
of nature. in his eyes, i see
two worlds; & i don't know
why, but at the rift of those
worlds, a child fills a balloon
with helium & watches it
swallow his dreams. right
there, just right there, a
tumbleweed blows past
in what seems like a pratfall—
but just like every other thing
i can't identify its buttock.
somewhere, a boy still as a frog,
finds it hard to secern 's' from '5'.
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