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May 2020
~ Vladimir Burich ~

This one is catching Fortune,
zigzagging on his car,
surrounding it with phone calls,
pressing it,
condensing,
so as to squeeze it
into the narrow passage
of his mouth,
or
such that it touches
his body,
flows over his body.

That one
acts
kind of differently,
procuring:
meat – for his beast;
a heavy-built house with shutters – for his fears;
a fresh magazine with his photo – for his vanity;
a big-eyed son – for his paternity instinct.  

So,
having been freed,
redeemed,
he could stand in the universal Hyde Park
and scream
with his buttoned lips
Vyas
Written by
Vyas  37/M/Russia
(37/M/Russia)   
102
   Vyas
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