i can't help it
my shadows lick the pavement
no matter how hard i try to levitate.
and my alveoli drinks in
the exhaust of the world
until it raises lead levels in my blood
plumbs me to this earth.
i want to be not of this world
but, let's face it,
i didn't land here in a meteorite
or spontaneously pop into a virgin womb
i couldn't see my face
before my parents were born
because the riffling of the dealing cards
couldn't, can't, be counted.
i am the luck of the draw,
and the luck tastes of spades.
peter pan cut his shadow
and floated on the dandruff of pixies.
but the world, this world,
THIS ever ever land,
loves me too much to allow me
a flirt with a dream;
so, reluctantly,
i've no choice but to be faithful to it.
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