for Kyle McBride
Glass blown ash trays embossed in silver caught
the dropped excess of a generation's shrugged off after
thought and here I sat the grand kid who bought
into all of that left with a legacy of corrective lenses
scattered across the table top with a candle and a
bowl of sand reminded of how we're distracted to
see clearly by those diligent to the status tug of war
the radiant seventh letter in the compass and the quadrant
to receive the tapped sacrament of four Cuban cigars
was the crafted destiny of this charming rugged heirloom
to grant a new dawn with balanced diplomacy seemed to be
the message embedded in the lead crystal the dragon fetus
in the pyramid spawned by the pornography of science just
goes to show how to fill an ash tray with my grand father's memory
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