Simple As
Wind through the door-
smile and close it.
I can’t believe we’ve met,
can’t believe the thing
I didn’t know I cared to be real-
blissfully unaware
about how I needed to be touched-
can be believed into the real
simple as art
made manifest,
then prodded over and over in failed attempts
to equate interpretation with truth-
truth the realist jest.
And yet, it is a thing
we gave a name-
collective unity never before seen,
nor has it been since.
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