By: Paulina Sicius
Heading to Brooklyn.
To the guy making animals out of
aluminum foil on the subway
Thank you for letting us into
your world; one of metallic
monkeys swinging on silver palm
trees where wolves do not howl
but sing gospel songs to the
moon.
You sat on the third seat from the
door with the aluminum paper
roll in between your knees. You
asked the commuters which animal
they wanted you to sculpt
with your
Michelangelo hands. It took most of
them a while to think of
an animal.
You see, unlike you, our
world is not decorated
by glittering
flora and sublime fauna. Ours is
a world of dull curtains
and miserable
walls. Animals do not cross
paths with
our minds.
I wish to be blinded by the
sun's reflection off of
the aluminum
waves of your world, to feel the
warmth of a palpable
fantastic world.
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