(Look Up, Spill-O)
From your discredited blueprints and self-published books.
After so many days spent like a bee in a parked car,
ignoring the sun
and the fruits of friendship.
Making dirty jokes about a fallen tree,
Criticizing anthills, interrogating flowers,
Peeing beside the mentally ill at Barnes and Noble.
the many rooms of your father’s house
and never guessing where you are.
The cats and bears lower their heads to pray.
Come on, Spill-O, look up.
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