(iv.) All original anticipation of paradise deflates to long line-ups. We join willingly a moron and his clones, of course, there are women here I must be one or all of the disappointed people in this dream, climbing rung after rung of hot molded plastic, when I feel it coming, just a few steps up & onto the platform my chest rips open with wings of an unidentified bird. this gift of space (which also has to do with having) this new expectation: beautiful turquoise chlorinated water soon be taking me away down a way out, escape myself escape everything but this desire for flight.

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