Wet Christmas Pt. 2 (Interlude)
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2 straight days of nothing but Ukrainian food activates ancestral alarm systems built into superstitious soul
One time many years ago I left my body during sleep and ended up in a corner where I just about mistook the body of a terrible spider as my own
Sure enough, I woke up to find a gigantic spider-
In my dreams, his cover got blown -
And I wondered if these dreams were signals sent from Old programs built into my Jewish nose?
So I cuss, turn on the light and check the corners
Nothing But Myself, memories of
when I was allegedly on the bridge to another guy’s ontological throne
The only spiders around here are the ones alleging certainty of what they think they know.
In my new era,
The red flags in her blue eyes must be blended into a new color ALL ITS OWN
This is the only thing I know that I know.
I listen to the Christmas conversations of my neighbors through the window, the calming cluck of the black Friday crows.
My neighbors sentences do not duel, but marry and click into a duet of
wholesome hymns about who will get what from Home Depot,
Which xmas carols will be sung,
And how long they plan to keep their Kamala Harris sign hung.
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