We walked across a lake
in the afternoon. Looking at pictures.
My father struck the wall so hard his image
remained imprinted there for years. Evening came.
I thought of Theseus: planting
flowers in the labyrinth.
Women dressed as Christmas trees
playing cards. Women dressed as
inverted pyramids
hurling boulders at the sky.
Pictures of dinosaurs. Pictures of dinosaurs.
Listening to music,
like existing, is a passive
experience.
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