bread clip

we collected. held plastic between
thumb & finger. determined to build
disposal. aquariumed & swimming,
all the plastic in their paradise
to look at with hopscotch-eyes.
counting. where does the number go
once it's passed in its place.
a valley of sevens for the keeping.
breadclips are not recyclable 
in the blue sense but yes in 
the way that anything can be used 
for inspiration if you put it
in a cage. darting plastic. winking
plastic. we visited the plastic 
to ask our fortunes. i took 
my dandelion skulls to the morgue 
for an autopsy. death by thumb.
when the ocean is oil i'll go there
& make the evolved & ugly fish 
how to breath fire precipices. 
until then we have to ask containers.
the hallway. the shelf. the sink.
the pocket. hung a bread clip 
on my earlob & started hearing
ancient plant-matter talking about
unionizing. i don't explain it's
a little too late, i just listen.
hearing used to be my antidote 
but one day it just turned
stale & the crust peeled free 
as feathers. there's enough rations
to last this flag pole or so they said.
we stole some & stuck them
in our back pockets where all secrets live.
traded colors. blue being rare.
blue being sacred. the sky having
long been replaced 
with a late-night show set.
i keep a blue till this day.
no you can't see it. 
when you share a color 
a bit of the wave length is lost.
i need all i can get. we released
the breadclips in to their 
natural habitat. a million.
a million. the mud river.
trees, who knows which are root
& which have long been 
men in costumes with 
sound recording devices?

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