Not old but old enough to be dead.

People visit merely to see if I’m dead.

Watching a car wreck not long before the wreck.

Avery Fisher Hall, bigger than all of earth’s atmosphere,

With Ode to Joy blasting away at the darkness of space,

All so tan and so wood-bound, like being within a still heart.

Give me that black block and put me on top and enjoy me.

Allow me to stomp, stomp heavily and wave gloriously.

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