city slicker


Tame the wild. Tame the beast who speaks under warm shockingly warm stagnant breath when everything else is so cold, is exposed, naked stream of mind – tame the beast! And yet How. How can we tame the wild, the unexpected, horde them back, in rounds behind pens, behind bars, corrugated steel:  there is electricity there.


Wild speaks with wagging tongue. Wild says do you find me disgusting am I disgusting? And all the eyes shift and the shadows past noon become long in the face, take over the sidewalks, run Wild   right to the other side.

Wild does not say I CANNOT BE TAMED but it is obvious by the space Wild is given. One must never look a beast straight in the eye without being prepared to fight. Or flight. So WE never does. WE builds fences. WE says: AHA. WE has got this   all   figured   out. WE has guns. WE has ammunition. WE has social order and WE is READY TO FIGHT AT ALL COSTS.

WE thinks Wild lives in the city or better yet, on the perimeter. But WE keeps eyes averted. WE thinks the shadows shifted of natural causes. Wild is big. Wild is OMNIPOTENT. Wild has powers WE dreams of harnessing (when WE sleeps). Wild lives and Wild does not know Tame. WE lets IT corral Wild. Wild is a tree in winter, dormant and ready to unleash. WE is unsuspecting. WE is terrified
(when WE sleeps).

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