Childrens’ Eyelids

pixels run
the show-room, gold
behind lock

and eye-blink, swing
a taste-bud
at a harsh percentage, and

try to make—just
like our ancestors
when arriving to this country

taxi cab driving, realities’
pavement, made their
children, should’ve seen
uncle’s icebox, while
children

later grew up
birth-marked
and found a way

happy beneath Hollywood
lessons of
Normandy haunt the beaches in sunset

film-premier, anyone
notice the real
enemy, how long

until surfaces below
show their
true features, facial

encrypted codes with normal
everyday speeches
of just about everyone’s Joe, when

is not a time-frame, it
already is, but
quiet among suburbs—where
having

lost lots to a bank crash some years ago, may
have temporarily recovered, anyone
paying attention to the temperature in October…

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