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.....