In ‘learn’ mode, stepping back through
equations, cut grass, considerable geraniums
just to get to where the circles meet.
Obeying the plates, the quick current’s rolling-pin
deposits us far from the flag.
The grump lugs it back from the swamp.
A flashing display indicates that the limits
of his mob device have been violated.
The point at which you enter
and we rub together our ‘big pictures’
exceeding his or her weekly goals
remains fuel for the mouthful
reporting from the scene, a populist sleuth.
You’d like to know the slope, keep count
of each clear memory and advance
after re-entering the value; that’s the shrewd
driver in you, counting the corroded days.
Our formula: float on top of a weird award.
Airing the room lifts a grey layer
from an ashtray; immaterial
under the curve of some of what you’ve seen
from the store to which you’re assigned.
Read the rest of Overland 229
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