THE  SPIRE             
  
  ONCE UPON A TIME, THERE WAS A     
  BENEVOLENT  SPIRE, TOWERING WELL  
  ABOVE OUR  TALLEST TREES. IT WAS  
  CLAD IN WHITE SCALES, AND SHAPED  
        LIKED   A   MUSHROOM.       
       WE  LOVED  IT  DEARLY.       
  
  IT PREDATED US  BY  MANY  YEARS,  
  AND WE DID NOT KNOW ITS ORIGINAL  
   BUILDERS.  THEY  HAD USED  ITS   
   HOLLOW  BODY  FOR  MANY STRANGE  
  PURPOSES  - A WOMBLIKE  PLACE OF  
  GESTATION, A  STORAGE  OF STRAGE  
  FLUIDS, A TEMPLE TO SOME KIND OF  
     ARCANE   DEITY.                
  
    WE  WERE   GRATEFUL  FOR  ITS   
  PRESENCE,  AND HONORED  IT  THE   
   ONLY  WAY  WE  KNEW  HOW:   BY   
         BREAKING       IN.         
  
                                          
                                          
  
   THIS PLACE WE CALLED OUR  CITY:  
   WAVY  AND FRACTURED, WITH EACH   
  COURTYARD ON A DIFFERENT HEIGHT,  
   ROADS  BECOMING ROOFS  BECOMING  
   DRAINS.  AND SOME  PLACES, LIKE  
  THE SPIRE, NOBODY HAD  ACCESSED   
  FOR  MANY YEARS. ONCE  ITS WALLS  
   ARE  JUST  TOO  HIGH, AND  THE   
  INTERNAL ROUTES TO LABYRINTHINE,  
  A PLACE  AMONG OTHERS  IS EASILY  
            OVERLOOKED.             
  
   SO, BASICALLY, THAT SUMMER THE   
  FOUR OF US SNUCK AND CLIMBED AND  
  CRAWLED FOR WEEKS, SEARCHING FOR  
  A SECLUDED PLACE TO DO DRUGS AND  
  PLAY MUSIC  ON OUR  HANDHELDS.    
  INSTEAD  WE  FOUND  VAST  LUNGS   
   DRAINED  OF   THEIR   CATALYST   
  SLUDGE, AND A BIRDS-EYE VIEW  TO  
  MAKE  SENSE OF OUR  ROAMINGS FOR  
         YEARS   TO   COME.         
  
  A CENTRAL  SPINE,  A  STAIRCASE   
   AROUND  IT,  THE SEVEN TOROIDAL  
   LUNGS STACKED OUTSIDE,  AND THE  
  CONTROL ROOM ON TOP. THE SOCKETS  
  FOR ITS EYES. THE SMALLER SPIRES  
    FOR  RADIATING  CONSCIOUSNESS   
            INVITATIONS.            
  
                                          
  
  IN TWENTY FOURTEEN, THE TOWER IS  
  TOPPLED  AND EATEN BY MACHINES.   
  AFTER  A WHILE, SOMETHING NEW IS  
   CONJURED  IN ITS PLACE.  IT'S A  
  TINY  MAW AT FIRST, SHORTER THAN  
  US,  AND  WE  LET  IT  BE.  OUR   
  JOURNEYS STILL END AT  ITS FEET.  
  
   BUT THEN WE  ARE  BETRAYED. THE  
  NEW TOWER  EATS  US. OTHERS ARE   
  SUCKED INSIDE. NEW BUILDINGS ARE  
   MANIFESTED OVERNIGHT, ONLY  TO   
   DISAPPEAR IN THE  EVENING  FOG.  
  FOR A  WHILE ITS  SOME KIND  OF   
  TIMESHARE SCAM. GOONS ARE PLACED  
  OUTSIDE, AND  WE GET BEATEN UP A  
   FEW  TIMES,  AND  STOP  GOING.   
  
   IIRC  IT'S CURRENTLY  OWNED BY   
  SOME ENERGY DRINK BARON WHO USES  
  IT TO HOLD ALL  HIS FOURTY EIGHT  
              CARS.....