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.....