But I knew they hadnt.
They hadnt thought such thoughts.
No – I knew.
I knew I knew I knew.
It was like the Lankavatara
Scripture
I got to read 30 years later,
It said: “These little cardboard
Houses and people, may be real,
Considered as real, if you steal
Little reel from the wheel
Every neel till the eel
In the skeel keep the weal
Of all men intact in city
halls
Of poop hope.
In other words, son,
hang on – dont tip,
lose balance, see reality
in images like cardboard
-nor in the brown light
of this very kitchen.”
I pouted in my childhood.