No Limit

It seemed like for all time,/I meddled with paupers,/laughing mostly, once in a while glum./Engaged in capers behind the plexiglass of a sanitorium./It was an all day weave, scouting out tantrums under arc lights/down at the mouth./No ability to forget, make a truce with my number/soft marks left by the whims of the heavens./Then often they’re moving, coughing,/ guts expand with all those zeros/they’re just statues, dressed like widows,/in rank, in parade./Often aware, only of each other, we all contracted some rare disease./Wary of motion, reluctant to talk,/only renegades and outcasts dared shatter their silence./Three times daily, corridors break loose with noise./Enforced sleep, except for those who labor in belts/hoodwink a night guard/in a valuable shirt, conversant about what he’s read in the paper.

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