A snake falls on a shoulder
from a tree branch up above,
and scares the person sitting
there on the concrete slab
in a parking space.

Her feet are full of razor blades
at least that’s how it feels.
She adds details to her bedroom wall
using brushes she found
in the basement.

Music plays in an empty room
where all the lights are dark.
While insects gather under trash can
lids and hold detailed meetings
about nothing but scraps.

A line of drowsy pilgrims forms
up the jagged side of the mountain.
They are waiting very patiently for
their chance to see the fountain.
It was built their by their ancestors
with the precision of a master, and
if nothing else it comforts them
in the wake of this disaster.

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