The Commencement
You ask me if I want a latte
And I ask you to please rip your face off this time
Because I can hear the light inside you
Dying to get out.
Courtesy has become a sort of madness
Unless it be wild courtesy:
Running, hurling yourself
Through the air holding a cup and saucer
In the direction of a favorite loved one.
Giving money to everyone.
Desireless bliss.
Imagine needing nothing.
Under the ground.
Without a sound.
And the levitation will begin.
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