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| 6:20 Carousels |
| We are all so civil, so civil in the face, in direct contact, so polite, we show our teeth in a smile, trace of carnivore that will bite. We dye, cut, spray our appearance, adorn our ears and necks, and cloths and leathers, we trance the fashion image becks. We use hellos and wave our hands, we grasp hands and wrists, and all have the shift of the sands ticking behind head twists. Time is a commodity in sections spent in miser's parcels, with the self always first in pens, and six twenty carousels. The different are scaled away skin, left to gutter and box, or raised on platforms to be thin, perform in their locks. It grows and it builds around high, fantasy will just fat. There be no crash to future signs. But better be that. � 2000 DPMcClellan |
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