Go to the warehouse before the grips
before tech and sound and the sets.
Unlock the padlock and by yourself
push open the great metal grate.
Lock it quick. Make no sound
moving across the floor. Where
are you? Nowhere. And yet, here
in the base of your brain, in a deep
state that yogis seek, in the soon to be
bustling and filled a voice rings, here
is pleasure and pageantry, swaths
of yellow and green. Everything.
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