they wanna pull a dragnet for some missing children
and this longing feels like an aggressive emptiness.
so I wait for them to show up in the back seat of a drown car
and when they come
I think,
'here comes the shit shovelers'.
They speak only in vowels
reaching around with their foul, water-logged flesh
and I wanna consult something that ain't there.
it's reaching up.
Failing.
Falling away towards a vast majority.
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