White lines d i s e c t
White lines direct
Gardens
of underground creatures
Built on ambiguous road and meters
They're floating on this turning dashboard
And they're up, lookin' for their sign
At high noon or high night
Special speckled strip of sky,
that might try
For them
Will they ever look behind themselves, or beside themselves?
Lost little creatures, that lost all their sense
Possessed and caressed
By their own.
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