I should have gone to Wollongong, I know.
Instead, The Treachery of Images
flowed through my mind, liminal visages
from the grand masqued ball dancing dark and slow.
I wish I'd stayed in Plato's Cave, a shadow
afraid of light, hooked to the smart TV chained
to the wall, unwoke solipsist unbrained,
trolling tweets, in love with Rachel Maddow.
.
But I went outside to puff a smoke. Cool.
I had Ezekiel's vision: wheels, cogs,
systems engineering and decalogues.
I brought back the news. They said, Get out, fool.
.
I'm on the road called The Series of Forks.
It's made all the difference. Pop the corks!
