,,,,,,,,, ,,,,,

Animals of the future meet
in the fabulous past. Nothing
that makes them dance has
ever been played. Stories of roadkill
and melted ice cubes inundate
wine glasses and teapots. Humanity
loves to hide in hooves, tails
and tree branches. Every day
winged creatures reinvent the wheel
on the fly. After the last war in Antarctica
the Sun keeps clear of the horizon,
toying with commas from
forgotten erotic novels.

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