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the trickster, jokester –

son of an illicit marriage

and born on April First –

sees the world in black and white

and white-washed and gray smoke

unfurling from stamped out cigs

and dirty green glass

from shattered beer bottles

next to the queen’s palace.

but instead of crunching orange paper

beneath slipper-clad feet

and skirting broken bottles,

he holds the glass to the light,

relights dim and damp cigarettes,

and laughs

as the queen’s palace catches on fire,

and the people start to fall.


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