Shoe box buildings with cartoon letters
for something as mundane as scraping
teeth. The plastic wrappings get into
everything like they’re looking for places
to hide. We like to stay inside these days
only leaving for small errands like running
our clothes through the wash.
The factories you see from the bridge all
have meaningless names and almost
no one could tell you what they build there.
Still there is something epic about their
scale. That’s all that really matters anymore.
We stand in the shadows of the loud and
violent with bank accounts that fluctuate
like canteens in the desert. All the while
there is electricity within us like the monster
in that book about the scientist.

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