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.....