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He opens the covers from his bed

and runs off between his parents legs

the jungle leaves dust his head

as technology in the sky reneges

He touches a fly with a silly smile

and spreads it million little eggs

he runs up and jumps higher than a mile

until the satellites have bonked his brain

in the contact his thoughts have been compiled

and his imagination turns into forest rain,

drops of all the things he’s said

and water fizzy like champagne.

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