Chore Choir
One says, "You are no one." While the other, outlined in careful chalk, dutifully fades, until a pale resemblance breaks the habit, memory. A sleeve over the naked evidence serves purposes unplanned, unspoken, and therefore unrehearsed. The other individual invents the interplay of syllables, whose sounds seem cold together. The blend remands unfinished business to a prior psyche, as though invoking evolution's inverse. "Now that I have heard your name, I can address you." The surge of keepsake deference inverts the margins, where a comfortable minority would homestead. All immigrant particulars shake off body temperature, as new agendas are spawned. A vital part of viral news bequeaths to episodic trains the glare of riveting circuitous new fear. What if the boomerang had instincts teachable and tainted? Would the covenant be thus tamed? Would fear assert itself against the granular injunction against fading? People taught to trust their peers go seeking mirror mazes. One appears to glare the features of another, once removed, although familiar.
Contortion, vehemence, redrawn boundaries, a silk tie across the borderline
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