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All Day I Dream about Sex.

That goat. You love that goat more than you love me, more than you love your wife.--Philip K. Dick, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?

 I'm trying to say something as clearly as I can, like
this backronym for Adidas which isn't an acronym at all, but
portmanteau. The owner is Adolf Dassler, nicknamed Adi-- you see, Adi
Das? Then someone made up:
 all day I dreamed about sex
. That's funny, but how about all day I dream about soccer
, or socks, or sweatshops
, or Sudan
? There's a difference between compression and tension; the former
a reduction in volume; the latter
the relationship of force between two or more things; how far can you
stretch a string before it breaks, or a country, or a teenager who makes
sneakers, or the one who's willing to knock another one down and
kick him in the head,
so he can steal the shoes off his feet? I wanted to say something clear,
and all I had was ears so full of letters and words: k's,
diphthongs, sporks, and cyborgs, trying to neologize the collision of
them or find someone to blame for my
dumbness. Consilience doesn't mean sentience, not without a certain
self-awareness anyway, more than it requires to tie your shoelaces. Is
there a word for it yet--to imagine what's beyond the break, living
on the taut string? 
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Title Annotation:Baby Boomer Issue
Author:McCullough, Laura
Publication:Prairie Schooner
Article Type:Poem
Date:Sep 22, 2009
Previous Article:Between Two Men.
Next Article:Parade of Possibles.

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