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The Most Up to Date Explanation of the Universe’s Absence
of Meaning

Peter Shippy

They purchase a red Volvo and ride to the shore, listening
to an agreeable voice-over shade the highlights of the sea

Coming to terms is never a matter of mere attendance
They stop at a roadside market and purchase frozen custard

The structure of a highway is a veneration of the neural net
which itself maintains an exigent relationship with galaxies

They let a room in the much-loved inn, whose fawn lily
wallpaper is not stuck to amorphous narratives, but to syntax

Can anyone fly this contraption says a voice off the flat-screen
He wakes, still inside her, still asleep, eminently self-reflexive

Morning sunlight slathers their sheets like white chocolate
Their car phones to advise on sailboat sales and resonant larking

Independently, they both worry that the other one will oscillate
that bridges will fall and dangerous distances will contract

They sell their red Volvo and walk to the shore, listening
to a plucky lifeguard blot out the sighs of the afternoon sea

Peter Shippy

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