The Corner of 3rd and 4th

The booths are red.
And I ask if the prettiest of every species are equally self-involved

If it is true that we are molecular, but also malleable
> If we are the effects of a cause without impetus.

I admit we’ve given in to the honesty of cognizance,
But a voice at my ear tells me that’s just what
The cognizants want me to do

I said, “…it’s nice to find universal things”

but the copyeditor at U.S. Science typed
“multiversal” and hit Replace All;

~ ~ ~

I look down Evergreen and see my struggles on repeat,
a skipping disc giving up my predicted and predictable poltergeist:

we are all one person, all together a clusterfuck
of conflicting origin, pissing into one pot the color of cement

It figures no one reads anymore; Marquez repeats himself
even as he attempts to conquer history’s repetition,
admonishing creation
> for its indenture to Father Time, but giving daughter after daughter

to the salesmen
> who promise restaurant jobs in America

and then: that brilliant line from the
intellectual Indian fellow:

> “History doesn’t repeat
itself, but it does rhyme.” How true! And how cruel

I’m Line Number Two in one of Blount’s Limericks,
podgy humor for dopes with too many cartoon anthologies

Show me reason, and I’ll show you a rhyme
season, for starters

~ ~ ~

What is the use?

but more importantly:
> Why have We never met?

Are you the type of person who systematically searched
the country for a town
where 3rd and 4th intersect?

We like lying,
but God cannot really be petulant: he exists and

is Everything, or you refuse the entire postulate

I like this; can you
block off some time? meet at the corner of Southport & King,
> just as the sun turns to flowerpots, which Marquez will later hang

They have flash cards at the bar; we can drink until
the multiverse looks singular again

let things get sorted out without our burbling dovetails

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