We find enjoyment in shattering
cheap tables, you can buy in any
store, with the sledge hammers we found
in the shed. The plastic melts into the
burning street while they sit waiting
for days on the curb. The chemical
steam coming off of them refracts
the light above like a mirage, and
the horseflies land within it just to
struggle like mad. People passing
by on their nightly walks don’t even
recognize the wad of gray material as
what it was. Instead they poke at it with
their flip flops and consider what it could
have been and why it ended up there to
begin with
Chemical Steam
Teleporting Typewriter 