We littered the shade with our bodies
Imprinting fear of motion on the trees.
Tools were far from prohibited—
Even ones to help you learn Chinese.
I got up then and walked the perimeter of the complex
For what seemed like days. In reality it was years.
Breathing became difficult, but less of a concern.
Flowers were not the fearsome editors
You see in movies, nor were the various forms
Of fauna I encountered very worthy of alarm.
Back in the shade, my friends inquired
Into what I had seen, and why. Before I could answer,
A brand new bag descended, covering my head.
What little light leaking through
Sought out more than I could chew.
Thus consigned to the dustbin of history,
I make my mark in subtler ways.
Armed with patience and threats of legal action,
The whole of humanity places a call
To warn me of its impending trip to the mall.
I would like to impart what happened next, but certain
Personal ties prevent me from commenting.
I'll just say this: the future is made of severed noise
From the folly of observed continuity.
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