Three fake plastic bushes per sill
in the mall promenade.
A poor man’s Platonic ideal,
like the subset that forms in my heart
for the Tyrolean girls of retail.
My omniscience evaporates
outside the subject/object divide.
Not to say you aren’t lab rats
but I believe you believe I believe in free will.
Under the lodestar, snow.
A panhandler holds his cardboard square:
Inoperable Brain Cancer
I cry, “What for?”
It’s possible for preceding events
to happen in reverse order
like the following.
Citywide, toddlers are being revived
in unlicensed daycares.
When attacked by a grizzly,
you’re supposed to lie there, little bear.