You can roll back over
And pick back up with that incredible dream,
A subset equation opens
And drops you.
A squeeze through the capillaries,
And a sudden tissue exchange,
Leave you flat
As day old carbonic acid,
And all you can hope for
Is to be picked up as lymph,
And a slow ride to recirculation.
I want my car back!
I want my home!
Passive, time drips.
I slump on the bench,
Neutered by public transportation.
And where is that dream now?
Where is that function?
Where the fleeted beauty?
A fluttered heartbeat
And it all changed course,
And bound me up in systemic duty.
-jenn long
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