...one hundred conversations in a day... through muzzles that disguise molotov cocktails at the top shelf bar that weapons dealers stand around... boom...
...another another... days in 2000's... 2020 like a league 1000 light years ahead of 1981... the fashion still weighs on the necks of 21 year olds like chains, whips...
...whipped through vernon jackson looking for artists culminating into sculptures i could talk with without a mask by the water... one of them came out of the gong and shared her heartbeat... i hopped on it and skated over grass like it was a skaters pike... asked her if she'd like mine... she nodded tears in her eyes... walked away with it... standing before the geese that i thought i left in p.a... they went from a diet of suburban monsanto sprayed grass to shards of glass bits fleeing bottles of s.o.s...
...she opened her palms and let it go there, like a butterfly... except my heart's wings were clipped and fell like a cinderblock killing a daughter of the revolution - i recognized her from the murals in palestine - keffiya on her head... dove on her shoulder... an israeli solider's mass murderous rifle in her hand... it was time to go...
...she left herself on the wall of the ferry were bengali women from astoria projects fished for dinner...
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