***
So, Thou, God, Thou makest the light a cocktail
and we rejoice so much that we poop on ourselves;
Thou cradlest us around Thyself and laughest ‒
what frolicsome children! ‒ And I ha’ bequeathed
something to everyone: thoughts, obsolete words
about the one and the other, remnants of all kinds
of things, fragments of knowledge and unknown
intense pleasures, misleading valuable goods
but particularly a vapour that changes his colours
and shapes and a woman’s nipple as hard as the rubber
sizzling on the boob that great minds researched
with the dry mouth.
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