On the wall that supports my desk
My hands, my head
There are etchings of flies drawn by phantom children
(Or post office own-brand white tack
If we were in the business of being honest)
White tack used to hold up
A scratch (no sniff) map of the world
That kept collapsing to the ground like a toddler
on a 7-step trip to the Arms of Pops.
.
The LERiAL 
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