Today three large
undifferentiated masses of myself lay on their asses
in a comfortable pile.
They hadn’t bothered
to assume a hue – beyond
a partial offhand dip or two
into a lazy beige.
In their dispassionate
complete release of style –
suspending all expenditure
of energy – they blandly
beckoned to the rest of me,
respectively, to see
if possibly I might
not want to have what
they were doing turn,
collectively, into my destiny.
To think we mightn’t
ever have to do another
thing at all had most
of me in mild thrall.
We elected to pursue it.
We think I’ll do it.
.
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