My toxic assets
have been building up
for so long
I didn’t even get a chance
to meet them
when they came
around the mountain
by chance
just to say hello
before I fell down in a field
smitten with underbrush
and the drowsy way
I stay disconnected from things
by touching the thin air
that follows me
through the radio
and willows unnamed
beside a roaring stream
that empties into a gorge
no one has fallen into
by this century
because they put up a fence
made of styrofoam egg crates
to hold back
the torrential parade of wolves
quickening to a pulse
beside the white chickens.
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