Sexiness is dead there, right hon? Closing Alcatraz
and that compartment of your head inside those windows
nobody would miss — w/ eyes in a glass paragraph, modern
ilk, you found yourself among them then, a prison

in binaries. There’s a little anatomic chortling:
This is your shelf, your shoulder, this is your
pelvis, this will not explain the center or
One: they name the object, two: the hero.