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..#.#.#.#.                                          #..#.##..#
.##.#.#.#.  in a black rubbery sleep i dream about  #.##..#.##
..#.#.#.#.         cold boiling asphalt and         #..#.##..#
.##.#.#.#.       crimson emergency flares...        #.##..#.##
..#.#.#.#.                                          #..#.##..#
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.##.#.#.#.                    ††                    #.##..#.##
..#.#.#.#.                                          #..#.##..#
.##.#.#.#.    they were tearing down statues, and   #.##..#.##
..#.#.#.#.  bellowing their manifest, in the rain,  #..#.##..#
.##.#.#.#.               in the dark,               #.##..#.##
..#.#.#.#.                                          #..#.##..#
.##.#.#.#.     and something followed me out, a     #.##..#.##
..#.#.#.#.  yearning. a memory of being touched by  #..#.##..#
.##.#.#.#.     a ray from a raspberry sun. still    #.##..#.##
..#.#.#.#.   there, everything would be gritty and  #..#.##..#
.##.#.#.#.   full of tar. rain upon it. but then a  #.##..#.##
..#.#.#.#.  few bright and colorful anomalies. and  #..#.##..#
.##.#.#.#.            a promise for more.           #.##..#.##
..#.#.#.#.                                          #..#.##..#
.##.#.#.#.  like waking up with a business card in  #.##..#.##
..#.#.#.#.              your pocket...              #..#.##..#
.##.#.#.#.                                          #.##..#.##
..#.#.#.#.   a feather boa wrapped around a velvet  #..#.##..#
.##.#.#.#. lizard, surfacing for milliseconds at a  #.##..#.##
..#.#.#.#.    time, calling, tugging at my arms.    #..#.##..#
.##.#.#.#.   begging me to sink back down and be    #.##..#.##
..#.#.#.#. with them, with their kind. easy to get  #..#.##..#
.##.#.#.#.   washed away from the tether, from the  #.##..#.##
..#.#.#.#.               way back up.               #..#.##..#
.##.#.#.#.                                          #.##..#.##
..#.#.#.#.                                          #..#.##..#
.##.#.#.#.  but i cannot go. the consequences would #.##..#.##
..#.#.#.#.   be too large. especially since i'm in  #..#.##..#
.##.#.#.#.    the work mill and they've got their   #.##..#.##
..#.#.#.#.   eyes on me already. the feeling will   #..#.##..#
.##.#.#.#.  wane, and i will miss it, and cease to  #.##..#.##
..#.#.#.#.       understand. like every day.        #..#.##..#
.##.#.#.#.                                          #.##..#.##
..#.#.#.#.                    ††                    #..#.##..#
.##.#.#.#.                   †  †                   #.##..#.##
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.##.#.#.#.                   †  †                   #.##..#.##
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