Macro

The rate at which the world
becomes artificial is getting faster,
and that leads me to believe
we could be just before the edge
of something real.
Copper wires, cords, and steel
brought to us in piles
while the ones who paid just raid
the pockets of the crowd
that put it all together.
Her jacket was leather, and
she hung it on her seat
where her feet dangled
above her shoes kicked off
from the moment she decided
to be seen. No one would dream
of interrupting her, but still
you think about her voice
that you get glimpses of whenever
she utters to the bartender
that her cup of ice needs
more vodka from the shelf.
The clear liquid melts
everything it touches
like it knows who plans
to drink it. A whole life
within a single freezing glass.

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