Monday, July 17, 2017

Again about my pants

my pants are forgetful things

cataleptic things

like my legs they hang off me loosely

prop me up

recite false identities

old memories of the factory floor
lines of vein strung up


torn apart

placed in line


my pants act as if they are real
as if they are invincible inimical things

but they are fated to fade away before my eyes

become old immortal heroes

star of fantastic stories become myth

bawdy song

my pants are tragic sad figures
hidden behind the veil

given no burial

prepared no warriors demise

merely a plastic lined grave

marked only by the miles

miles miles

and the wear

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