threeAnna Elena Eyre
trying on different winter coats / you put on a black cape and pull hood over top hat / she buttons sailor anchors together you prance in front of mirror as customers who pronounce unaffordable warmth a luxury her eyes shed clouds on concrete sidewalk blocks she holds your gaze indeterminate pupil / she’s petrified by the mesa’s space builds her home from bent nails & boat wood in the desert and her son soaks every inch of expanse / you ask if it’s because he has never known a horizon less sky / she is off her meds because she needs to paint you see the list scan breast for toxicity / you pull into a crowded flee market everyone wants in on the fair it borders / you have a ticket are allowed entrance but first must check deposit balance wait in a bank without operators for assistance the cloakyoutryon disfigures the oddity you try to stand out with. for her itisthe opposite. nomatter how conservativeablazer she’ll never blendinto mirror. wealth doesnot necessitate ateller to access but you are caught in thewait weight of withdraw. youdonot need medication to make art you need medication tobeableto function in town. tofunction out on the mesa. or is it that you needmedication tomake artandart to befunctional. or you need artto medicate so that youmightfunction in structure absently present. oryouneed medicine to keepyou from art. never nerve. you can’t getinon the other without purchase or theproof of invisiblenumbers in account. nerve never. her sonsaved her lamps of sewn paper and painted discarded sign boards. you gaveup your child for hope.
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