the tune to his head
was escaping so well
so many fingers dangling
pointing down towards his boots
so many fingers
so many fictions
so many phantoms
lots and lots of damn
fingers snapping
dropping to the floor
wrapped in kleenex
put in a false bottom box
remember as a child
the absconding criminal
reframed as a skilled man
remember the man
his artist
not even an actual index
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