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drifting
through the people the cars
no words come to my mouth
i stand tired at the edge
of things to come
already plunging into
the foam of future-presents
and challenging the useless
body to become useful

it resists
like a tire resists the road
until it runs over broken glass

i remember the future-present
when my body runs over the broken glass

i remember the remembrance of now.
of drifting.

Waikari, 25.1.07