Hold on tight to your tiny special
revelation, young and uninitiated, for it means
nothing unless it gleams defiant in your grip of
premature, innocent disillusion.
You have been promised more than once, so
here is more: a future not so far where,
sudden and sharply projected like
fantasies from an old wives’ tale,
Waterstone’s painful lives whiteout,
dust being blown
down in the ceaseless ocean, then
back to earth paradise, once again.
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