Wheels

Synthetic jail cells we voluntarily lock
Then pretend:
“Don’t know how we got here!”
–feigning shock.
Circles drawn on sticky notes,
Lyrics to songs someone lucky wrote.
Get out of jail free
By using your own two legs to walk away.
You bipedal mammal you.
No need for the laundromat if you don’t encounter other clean people
No need for a gas bill if you sleep underneath light poles
–Warmed by courage and freedom and ramen if you’re lucky.
Need for gasoline though
To get from here to there.
Everyone’s a dreamer John,
You’re not the only one.
But, will I be active in my dreams,
Henry David? Jack? Alex?
Someone give me a roadmap
Or an instruction manual
Or a job in an office if I am only to play the coward.
Given two legs when a swivel-chair would have sufficed below my ass.

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