Unsettled bills and a tantrum
as four leaves enclose our bungalow.

I sheltered your Madrid placid
neon signs as the rain was coming through
the orchard occipital lobe’s genius.

You are an ancient star,
one I wonder who had gone
too far; to see.

A motion blurred reactionary dichotomy
segregated in seven cisterns,
It was your sister who, at Hy Vee
gave the goddesses their crowns.

While you lay lying low,
feeding them Tofurkys
behind the ivory palace stairs.

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