Picked from the flesh of fat fingers, a few morsels of skin and hair make it into a charity plate circulated at the weekly (Wednesdays, 8pm) vainglory meeting. Tilted glasses are in- and re-introduced to fat mouths. The teeth hidden within are a delight — bites so clean and sterile.
Xenophobic antibody factories pump out mechanical, automated defences — Standard Operating Procedure — that, with no regard for cost, guard borders, push bookcases up against doors, grip shotgun shells and dock to foreign diluents, disabling, tormenting and mutilating foreign vectors.
New signals are left disoriented; reproduced and amplified inaccurately, misconstrued, so that nothing is allowed to change: "Did you hear what happened to so and so?" "And isn't such and such looking good?" "Single mothers? The devil, you fucking say." "Oh, I know! Believe me, I know!"
I mean, didn't we deserve a look at you the way you really are?
copper
Written on Wednesday, 13 June 2007