The way it begins is the way it ends.
When she grows up she wants to make things.
Neurosis spilling over the top of the tea cup onto the stove.
Just a little water is what he thinks of the puddle.
Just a shard of glass entering your thumb, no biggie.
Where are the antelopes? Where are the ants?
She will make things. She will find and follow the
currents to connections. Call in the flies.
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