In a Bottle
Into the lake lap glittering with
Mercuries and paint-removers, one duck drives
Its fledge-wake down along its own
Diminishments of rush, to end stock-still at the arrowheads
Tip. The other never was symmetrical, or flew. Made out
Of waste, topped with a quicket of hedge, a hill appears
Where no hill ever was before. It grows and grows. It grows
Till tillers tire, it grows till the kings dumb come
Done gone. (That lyre should be
Administered a serum! Every last lackluster mist,
Each lactose-lacking mother, can be fixed! No fear!) From human
City rooms a mush of doctorable suburb issues forthdegrees
In marrow-clog, amounts in mottlement. Kreme de la
Kreme! (Officially OK for all of us to be superlative, Im
pretty
Sure, as long as the kids take all their tele-tablets
And the wellness store takes spelling
From the FCC. Its thanks to lawyers
We have settlements at all, of course,
And thanks to governors your class in governmentaleseit is
Requiredand wired!lets give our nations
CEO a great
Big hand! A chip for every memory loss and shoulder! No need
Ever to recollect, or be alone, or die. The message is
The middleman!) But now, beneath exclamatory notice
(although not the one ducks jaundiced eye) three bugs in a
bottle
Their brains unwashed, their feelers finebegin (with
Morseless expertise) to conjugate,
And multiply.
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