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Sous Vide

12/5/2018

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Lights.
Fluorescent-- Stars dancing across the empty sky.
No noise, just quiet, a stream of consciousness.

How many?
Five.
Five?
Five total.

Hear that-- Heartbeat in the house.
Thump, thump, the rib-cage.

Night-- Desperado.

Late, arrival.

Window, overlooking.
City lights.
Flames arise.

How many?
Meeting My Party.

Five.
​How many?
​I Have Arrived.


Picture
Chant-- melodies in pause.
Still waiting for some, of course.

Missing Two.

Bone-crushing scream,
and everything in between.

Dinner For Six.

Sous-Vide?

Clearly.

Not a circle-- Rectangle square,
mind your business,
where to sit where.

Aroma and scent--
For them to ascend?
No-- An incident.

How many?
Four.
​I thought there were more.


Picture
Move across the table,
your body is now able.
Interchanging looks,
but no one else in the room,
not even the cooks.

Just them and you,
kicked aside Blue.

Arrival-- three and four.
Shall We Begin?
Once More.

And then the gifts of evolution presented,
a weapon for each-- transcended.

A hopeful view of your world, indeed.
But in the future you all bleed.

For each smile interchanged--
beneath the charade,
over-lookers and passerby's
wonder who you all are.

Different Bottles At The Bar.

Each a poison with a different kick,
stick of dynamite--
you've lit the wick.

No Mere Parlor Trick.

Each gifted a tool for your demise,
hoping one day, perhaps,
tear through your disguise.

How many?
Table For Blue.
What About The Warriors?
Don't Mind The Coup.

Es-tu satisfait?
They Cannot See.
Ils vont bientôt se détruire.
Par leur main.
Then I Will Wait.
Pour voir qui a l'hameçon?
Pour Voir Qui Jette La Première Pierre.

Combien?
Une Reine Et Quatre Guerriers.
Bon appétit, mon roi.


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    "The Collective©" -
    A Vessel of Opportunity, circa 2011-Present and ongoing.

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