Do Not Fear the Fake Punch (100%) by flot

Do Not Fear the Fake Punch

(100%)

 by Sam Flot

Sometimes

Perfection rising

Is missed like lost smoke or

 Rug-slipped dirt

Swept under the carpet

Cut by the previous night’s

Festive proximities

Moving to the beat

Other times

It’s a lucky fin found

By a lucky finder

Dropped on purpose or found or seen

In the cracks of

The revolution’s walls

Breaking into pieces

Of pie like they always should have

Occasionally

A plateau will be attainable

It can be found

Past tenses and before pretense

A conquered image

Fully guided to be quiet

When we reached that boulevard

Of made dreams

Of dreams happening happened and yet to happen

When that boulevard is walked

When you’ve seen the Mercado

And the hardware stores and toy stores

When you reach the end walking

Cross over and walk back the other side

Past beggars and photo shoppers

Do not fear the fake punch

They are testing your resolve

They are trying out

the fear in you

Do not flinch

It is not anything

Dream moving along

Unflinchingly

1.25.oh-ate