by Elliot Ian Ross
I’m in a sprawl
Drying out
Letting time stroll
Soaking in
Chin rubbing the carpet
Of the new apartment
Wasting light
Beetles at this level, they’re cows
Elephants, I feel them surviving
Like swelling peaches.
Persisting in massiveness being
Dinosaurs lost and I’m a universe
Big. Awkward waste of space
Fleshy. Lumpy. Wrong.
Fermenting under soursweet lemon light
Shunning time.
While beetle flashes blueblack and green
Volkswagen on tiptoe
Primed to combust.
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