Tuesday, July 18, 2017

MISTAKE

Turns out,
my freest
moments are always

those
in which I'm
able to forget

that all my thoughts
have been
pre-selected.

And how they might
come spaced,
like skinny trees

through little iron
cages in the cement—
the products

of conscientious
urban planning
and development—

each one similar
in size and shape,
distinctly separate

but almost always
all considered
together

as one thing. Yes,
respites
like this

are the best,
because
the truth is

all that stuff—
like distance
and time

and space
and whatever—
are nice,

but they're just
options—not to mention
illusions.

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