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.....