little, creative, american tommy awoke with fright,
in the suburbs of his own security,
hearing the tiniest of prickly noises
like an insect cracking its knuckles,
he looked, found a maroon beetle under his bed,
named it after hitler, thereupon deciding
any conjunctions all capitalizations
would be extinct, vacuumed, dusted.
red-headed, freckled, american tommy awoke with fright,
protected in the white picket, alarmed and ready,
glancing wide-eyed at the swept wooden floor,
saw off-brown ants moving in a line
towards one of his socks, feeding off his alter-ego,
swarming the circumference,
he noted this would change his opinion
of his mother.
you can buy a name, name a meteor,
an underwater chilean anemone, name
a throat that hasn’t coughed yet, spiders
with unordinary apple stems for legs, all
becoming you immortalized like god.
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