scratches a pencil to the paper's dents
see what was written on the page before.
our secret necessities insist every city
must be as deep underground as it is tall.
how high must the fire escapes climb when it comes time
for earth to get around to its one last chore?
its total scorching settles all bets and fixes all scores.
i'm left no choice but giving up on cleaning up after people
and hearby declaring myself a person.
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