I have practiced, perfected
my walk, my talk
rainy streets strolled
windy mountains mastered
sunny forests foraged
digested
by animal teeth, animal guts
claws and paws and jaws
raw red meat right off the bone
a good day a good way
to die
until
late night lights go out
reflected
from
a sky too bright
to hunt by
while the telephone curls up mute
like the city's lips, just like
your lips, your hands,
your eyes
not defiant
not antagonist
but
gracefully blank
as if nothing
in this world
ever had anything
to do
with me.
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