The Backs of Things
I find myself around the backs of things.
A more comfortable reality it presents;
A dirty bowl that’s never refilled,
A rusted dumpster,
Pavement cracked and forgotten.
The hidden backs of things
Are what things really are;
Not painted in decals or brand names -
Just the working components;
The clock with no face -
Cogs and wheels,
Of plastic and steel.
There I am in an element
I can relate to.
I am the backs of things.
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