B. McGILLICUDDY
Qualified masses
Give a certain meaning
To movements and such
And piece together
Fragments of intruded time
But people don't move
Like waves
Each particular body
Floating, bouncing to
A different step or roll
Clashing with the lot
One by thoughtful one
Until the moment
Bumping turns to carnage
Of the mind
And on some level
They dilute each other
Spirits bursting through
Touching their intangibles
And loving 'cause they
Can't hate it all
But hate it all
Because it means nothing
In this, this
Life that fits in brackets
But for now, not in a diamond
Or a rubber, O! They're
All just products, simple
Quantified assumptions
B. McGILLICUDDY
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