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.....