To populate them with people to love
Whether they deserve such devotion or not
Some heroes and anti heroes
Femme fatales and drunken sots
Not me that's who
I like to buy my worlds ready to run
With batteries included and clock springs wound
Made of far better material
Than anything I'd have ever found
I sketch out intimate scenes
Or describe isolated bubbles
That extend about a foot around my protagonist
Everything outside of that a twilight zone blank
Whiteness or blackness where nothing exists
Nope I choose to live in a world not of my creation
Filled from horizon to horizon
A surprise in ever tiny insect and mote
A beautiful mystery sitting plainly in the sun
Way better than anything I ever wrote
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