Repetition - Excerpt From Experimental Novel -

Now transition, a transit repositionment, a white car super-imposed with consumerist propaganda. Long rectangular prism solid moving, propelled by inflatable tubes circular, and the foul engine. A refridgerator that keeps the hole in the ozen fresh and crispy. So I'm in this thing... and the seats are filled with characters; your second generation immigrants thankful to afford a spot in the faux refugee parade, an accolade, to the American dream, staged. And once again the prism, because last night was just too much of a blur to remember- like an unwanted poem: Repetition, last day was same, and how to remember, Monday from Thursday, and months only by the weather and the multitoned coughs, of interchanging drivers, if poetry is false, then all the world's a liar a twist and shake with truth, and the multicolored boots of attractive women who do 'the eyeroll'- Wolf don't love, don't care, they wouldn't survive in the woods out there.