| 266  2  2   
 | my hand is closing;grasping insubstantialair particles thatescape into my fleshypink lungs. imaginary    magpies take flight fromthe runways of my whorled  greymind. their wingbeats  soundlike dust at the  morning's end;like finality… | 
		
		
			| 1667  0  0   
 | "If only we could all look like that."
"Truly lovely … such a perfect face."
The gallery was busy that day. 
But still the man and woman stood. | 
		
		
			| 2584  7  6   
 | In a plush leather chair, / high up a shiny skyscraper, | 
		
		
			| 78  10  9   
 | I can only say I’m glad/
it’s not me, |