this dust
the molecules of mullosk and humming bird feathers, and my brother's knee scuff at seven, and the dog who roamed with the Osage, that had three litters.
spit up on this wind that blows forever in prairy towns.
shifted endless, traveling sales circus, magic shows promising CEO jobs in lucrative industries like:
Life
spitting up all over, fondled into the air that blows forever-never, forever.
an atomic history film, pieced together, rapturous, always sandwiched with a bit of moisture on your lip in the morning, watched and washed away.
splitting up on a ricocheting rock,
this second divided, like infinity's offspring, sown for lovers, forever seeking the prairie winds.
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