The dream

but the mind, so busy,
questions and probes, frets
and worries: is this
the right place?

there is no perfect place,
no perfect people, only
the theology of the
plastic plate, higgelty-

piggelty peeling corridors
and its state of
addition over years: for
need and not aesthetic.

The heart is the real thing:
the striving,
The Rule, the connection
from wherever I am
to a living dream.

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