I imagined in this dimming.

The tests I took in school were pretty. Standardized
into rows of possible answers and called Iowa. The corn field
fed several machines, none of which grew fat. It was all
flat mostly. I filled the rows unseriously. The little sapling
outgrowing its bucket and such. I filled in the bubble
next to other, wrote in the available space Portuguese. I was
very young at the time. We’re all still unknowingly out of date.
Everything has private parts: my first pair of gym shorts,
where the buffalo roamed, the crane only just visible through
the fog. The school was not public. The only thing I remember
about 2nd grade was spending a week learning about bananas.
They are all somewhat inaccurate. Everything slips a little. If you
design the machine, even poorly, you can say if commas are allowed.
In this system, commas are occurring. We’ll name this system picnic.
To get ahead of it you must invent ways to picnic. Peanuts, it’s really
who you gain control. We are all subject to greater forces. Her right
hand is numb. Whether she says it outright or not. Bafflement
is a necessity. All of that light, replaced with darkness. So much
melancholy falls out of me, perhaps something really is ending.
We’re at the mouth of the cave now. This fills me.

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