Purchase
Accomplishing the metal we
sacrifice the soil, fronting a
paradise of things made into
items, stuff into goods.
Defending our habits we blast
away the personage, a geyser of
products for which we would kill.
On a not-distant day I will
locate an object, pass it under a
scanner and unlock a panoply of doors.
Then I will sit at my table,
stunned into lethargy, having
wanted for so long that no
other verb comes close.
From the collection Fields of Satchmo
Photo by MJV
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