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A world reflected in
Porcelain eyes
Robotic jesters
Prance
In crowded, gridlocked streets
Smog billows skyward
Protects us
From vitamin D
Tin horns on
Slow-moving carts
Drown out honking memories of geese
Subway cars zoom along
With no promise of profit
Just nothing better to do
But I
Stand tall
On
Inverted skyscrapers
As they collapse through the smog
On their way
To the glowing moon


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