Orange melting fangs
On a hot sidewalk sweating
Candy perfume into our
Soles. Star people raise
Their fingers, swallow on
Their tongues, carry their
Metal feelings in a plastic
Flower basket.
Too much to know.
We are stuffed with bones.
Dear Mr. Newton why are we
All so physically attracted
To one another?
The doctor talks so quickly
And his movements so fluid.
But wait until space curves,
Wait until time slows.
Will we all think less of him?
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