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.....