Underground
MEANNESS Steven D. Abadin Deep in the corner of my vision, reaching his arms over the tall grass of the arid valley is happiness waving for rescue. I am insolent, looming at a peak. My brain is anchored to a brick in some viscous, contaminated delta. I babble Bad French at the eroding visage of an orderly court, palimpsest on the terrain. Fog settles upon the cliff with me as happiness, down there, gets a tan. I am susceptible to tears, but the Ram in me allays my diffidence.
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