‘Dying as a Habit of Expansion’ by Lucas Restivo

I’m about to reach max saturation 
Turn completely spherical 
Leave a slug trail when I roll 


At first it’s frightening
Feeling more and less of different intervals and levels


Then it’s exhausting and awful
Then you get used to it


Still I bet you this
One day you’re out somewhere maybe the park 
You bump into someone you haven’t seen in awhile 
Between the how longs and now what’s they say something 
Maybe the time you puked in geography
Or marital problems
Or trees smell like antique cardboard 


And after you notice they unveiled the new war memorial from months ago  

On the way home 
I stop by the town center with the new sculpture garden 
Yellow cherries, big rusty dog, a pillar made of coal

Today it looks like a stubbed tip of a giant pencil
Yesterday a skinny tie for a mountain

 
Behind me the sky spills like a bucket over municipal buildings 
I wait for an army of janitors to establish and sweep a line 


I touch my shoulder to see if its real


Facing the colossi   
Which is by some extension me 
I don’t move 
I say to myself 
No human looks like that without freezing 
Or choking 
Or joining the Blue Man Group 


Either way 
When I look down it’s only me


Lucas Restivo is a writer from Massachusetts. His twitter is @_mr_lou_ and his instagram is @not_lou_ 

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