by Michael H. Brownstein
I want to get regenerated into whoever I am supposed to be.
A clam perhaps.
A sea lion.
The beginning curl of a great wave stretching itself across the ocean.
Maybe just a unicorn.
These are the things I have learned:
Reflective noise,
Protein maladjustment,
Everything double sided except for the palm of my hand.
Outside the grey moon almost blue has a Spanish hue,
Olive and bran,
Strong willed and intent,
Muscle bound weather permitting.
If by some chance I fall on my head and die,
What happens to everything I never did before?
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