Their world is flat.
The horizons are cheap curtains
poorly painted suggestions,
with the Eiffel tower or singing cowboy from the
last masterpiece hastily obscured
to make way for strip malls, haunted amusement parks,
cubicles, the boudoir with a streak of something dark
on the sheets.
The actors may give out with lines
not knowing what they really mean.
They hold their empty children singing lullabies
may as well be holding a loaf of bread with quicksilver
inside
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