Set. $3T. set.

I relish an untitled retrieval.

Spooky time-lapse 

Conscripts constant dejavu


I lose my keys. 



Granting advertisements 

Unto conscious exposure. 


Outside the experience 

A rainbow mounts contours 

Along the edges of an oil slick. 

A mere dot among litter 

Making out 


In Target’s parking lot.


Inside the store

Starbucks corner

Necessitates the caffeinated march 

Untoward a consumer’s shopping foray.


TVs compose the fragile walls 

Of what functions as

An Electronics Department,

While synchronized programming 

Echoes cartoon dialogue 

In stereo. Fictional voices 

Drown out heightened 

Breathing patterns 

From persons 

With tax refunds, waiting in envy 

Of monetary cycles.


I leave with bleach and yogurt

Inside a plastic bag. An association 

Solely made from my purchase,

Setting forth Set Theory 

Patented by capitalists. 


Netting strewn 

Over the parking garage’s ceiling

Collects dust, wrappers and cobwebs. 

Wind travels through the mesh and flutters trash, 

Sounding as if baseball cards were attached to bicycle spokes.


An overcast sky turns the shadows blue. 

I enter afternoon like a newborn,

Escaping their womb for a new darkness.

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