A sequestered Sphinx
is just compacted silica
and yet here sobriety serenades
shaded surroundings.
Shove a parasol in
and you have a mighty cocktail.
What follows? A saga
of burgers, bad teeth
and a botched heist.
You've got the gist of it now.
Heavy eyelids like Suns
carried on the heads of the immortals.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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