The man in the boater and the woman
with the parasol discuss the inconveniences
of wealth. Millions of theoretical options
pass sluggishly by, molecules in an absent
river. A spider pertains to them, a hungry
bird pertains to them. The night opens above
Like an orange, in sections, its capacious
ligaments more spacious than the liberties
you take with words. Somewhere, all
the calculations are running. Beneath
a hat and parasol, a tiny truth comes out.
posted by Reen |link| 0 comments
