Wednesday, 25 January 2012

The phone rings:

You are you am y’I,
It says
One of the books
lying on the bed there
is an external brain.
It has died
green edges
facing the park
You tell it that
through the metal grid
a terrifying friend
or neighbour is
observing your part.

In a fluid sequence later that day
that childish man holds out
his arms in a head cupping motion
as a zombie suffocates with laughter.

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