Picture: Cubist landscape city by Lyubov Popova
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Sunset smoking, on fire.
Slightly car-sick, I roll down the highway,
The tree branches along the road seem to greet me.
Dronin’ wasp-scooters slide ahead from behind,
Ghost-men cross the street, blessing their lives with risk;
While taillights burn slow, the sunset hides behind blankets of clouds.
Today, I hallucinate reality less than yesterday,
Today, I’m in perfectly unsteady balance.
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Herons