Cream cheese-cool marine air moving seafood, cotton candy, lawnmower fumes, and cherry milkshakes under the mannequin moon.
The oceans must be planes of glass colliding on horizons about to disappear.
Ford Taurus, aluminum siding, palm tree, detritus, the paparazzi—
disappear.
The way the moon always goes home.
It is said I resist.
But I don’t.
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