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Ballad for the Wacky Waving Inflatable Tube-Man
air rockets skyward
uppercutting inside
plastic neon flesh
contorting at inhuman angles
what does my body language spell?
ankles anchored into the Earth
to stay grounded as the wave
of time and space crashes
a flood of stagnant flux
there is a symphony of bones
snapping and cracking
in twisted orchestrations
the act of existing for me
is a resilient demonstration
Copyright ©
B. Andrew Kelly
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