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window dressing

one day you might realize that you are
an extra
a cog, a burnt out piece of equipment
in the rube goldberg world
that is planned by no one
an entirely replaceable piece of
window dressing

as an ode to strangers,
withholding immense suffering in their beings
fighting immense indifference on the outside
we're all trying to be more than
window dressing

even on that day
a stray runner looks into your house after nightfall
at your mundane activities
watching tv, and arranging flowers
for a sense that
there's at least someone that's at home

a colleague might walk by your desk seeing
you gaze at amazement, at your instantaneous boredom
a sign of life, and engagement
of energy flowing around them

your laughing at a dog video in a bus
your irritating sneezing in a concert
your presence in a party as nobody
your terrible stroke in the pool
your dumb tweets
your

things are truly better expressed than not
and when we all speak together, aloud
fortissimo tutti chaotic clouds
thundering and fogdrip and
it is that cacophony of existence that
only establishes ourselves
in society.

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