Properly understood – i.e. trampled everyday –
the carnivorous pavement becomes an existential trampoline.
The secret had merely been cloaked: it was sickening.
For a good cause, the city's gutters therefore began to smell foul -
air after pissing its science; snow of vintage, yellow-edged
index cards used at witch trials – to stink out
new contents. But why would something precious be so annoyed
by everything? From hiding in a possum's armpit? A gift card dead
inside, dirty car innards spilled from it on opening: dirty car giggle...
For the next hundred years, Hewlett Packard will produce taxidermy
that will have the most disappointing hydraulics.
PayPal's jaw will drop, and stuff will hit the floor.