A star is just a smudge
on magnified glass.
I have never been
more disappointed.
Nietzsche takes a saunter
along the border
because it is warm enough
to step out at night.
Malevolent blobs
dance at his feet.
This is when we pause to speak
in sleep. Our eyes
follow the lights while we ponder
which is worse:
Nothing or something
you don’t recognize.

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