When you’ve finally got
that you are not
the only one,
the existential repercussions stun.
To actually recognize
the form and fact and smell and size
of that abrupt reality The Other
is like discovering you’ve got a brother
or a mother. People aren’t icons
anymore! Bygones must be bygones:
solipsism burns up in the pit!
Stan cannot get over it.
When he sees a being passing by,
he cannot stop himself from saying “hi.”
Find him naked, turning blue, uncouth –
daily waving at the shocking truth.
.
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