Balance - Poem by Alexander Hawkins
Work in a bit more reality, they said. Eke out what you can.
Watch a waltz criss-cross across foully fragrant parades
to dodge a payload of puta falling from impertinent parakeets,
unbuttoned in shades of mushmelon and muskmelon.
Reality dawns - a patterned mess like cantaloupe skin, you can't elope,
even if you wanted to, which you don't - as if you have the time!
Distractions number higher than the workload.
Reality is folded in on itself, like artful origami. What do you mean I've used that one before?
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