you had it neatly wrapped into a sweet ebullience –
and then it came back morphing all its characters
into a random range of unknown creatures,
whose new traits and fates and features,
while not terribly
unpalatably strange, were now
conniving to
pursue a different theater from the one you loved and knew – a cast unutterably foreign
to the last – a lot for you to swallow, because
you’re forced to turn your page and follow them
onto heir stage:
you have no voice to alter their
direction: no
choice but to submit to this unalterable insurrection: construe a brand new tale, and find
another sweet ebullience in it – find the makings
of another story to regale, and spin it.
.
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