12.7.18

Consider this a departure
or something else entirely,
but consider this, momentarily,
if at all, since nothing is to be gained.
Doctrinaires of the sprained
ankle school are fussing
with several brains-in-vats,
and never before
has “Be careful what you wish for”
mattered quite so much.
A cool dementia has spread.
I’m in the thick, chomping dead letters
and cigarette butts, wondering
which of the multifaceted ruts
I’ll find myself in come tomorrow.
I’ll have to borrow
a new lexicon to delineate
this interior process
to the dumb heads in the clouds,
as if they actually
wanted to learn something.
As it stands, they just go on nodding
with a half-assed ham-fistedness
that would be comical
if it were up to me.
The air here isn’t quite so free
since they fixed a price on breathing.
But somehow, I’m sure I’ll make do.

-r. miller

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