I don’t care if you notice me
sitting here against
the red brick wall
that keeps the masses
where they should be
in the parking lot.
I am unafraid of the shrimp
heads, cast aside, that form
mounds of thin black veins
and transparent faces
that no one can see
the differences in.
Although, to a shrimp
still living I am sure
there would be quite
a few distinctions.
Through the open windows
looking in all I can see
are people in lines
waiting for the things
they are supposed to want,
and paying with where they have
to be tomorrow.
If there ever was magic
in the world
I don’t blame it
for putting its coat on
and walking out the door
without a word.

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