It is Especially Dangerous to be Conscious of Oneself
by Jeff Alessandrelli
And supposing tomorrow we are finally rich
against the morning, the streets
scrubbed clean of concrete, asphalt and tar,
property lines extended skyward,
limbs no longer
indebted to our bodies
but splayed further, distant,
not a glass or plastic jar in sight
but still an abundance of peanut butter,
guilt-free boysenberry jam,
and then believing all this only
to consider what the percentage is
in closing your eyes
and turning around,
desperately looking back.
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