if god is real 
she is laughing in shades of 
every passing season 

we are saturated with greens of 
money and grass and 
vertigo of the metaphysical kind

absolutely nauseous 
with impermanence 

entirely free 
and powerless all the same 

i am not good at knowing 
when it is time to panic 
or laugh – 

so my hair goes green every few years, instead 

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