TANTAMOUNT
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In the dimension of flow
In which strangers
Give birth to one another, and die
It is a wave of flesh
Chunking tubes of waste
Squeezing themselves through holes
Too small to follow
Crashes over me
Washes through me
Pauses awkwardly in moments
Saying,
Goodbye.
I see you go by
Smiling with an oar in your hand
As doomed and unforgiving
As a lobster
Glaring from its tank.