...

the healing touch

a dot

that joins itself

within itself

all by itself

have you ever tried this

at home all alone

with everybody

tacit books and wise masks

with sad seaside balloon-sellers

through the sands

one gibberish city of mundane

arise arise

it has been good

neon

all the smiles

toasts raised

hoisted petticoats

flags of

who we are

mirrors of

subjectivity.  Mad time. One meme life. One bullet life.

But when all the chips were down,

history had gone to meet the daughter of the clouds.