Paper on Jovian Strings

More’s the more,
rain falling through the cracks,
serendipity calling through the
eyes of a transparent fallacy.

He stands there, his unblinking stare arrayed against a circuit board of trees; the little people mimic each other, crying for help. They wring their hands, tears fall from their cheeks, bombs blow off inside their heads; smoke pours out of their eyes.

Reality is a sway,
rain falling through the cracks,
the darkness beneath the streets
moving in slow motion,
those intrepid gypsies like moths
before a paper lampshade.

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