They dreamed it was water.  An alliance of chimneys
peering out to see if it was over,
peering into the center of a tiny, expensive flower
is how James first learned to feel important,
but, sadly, James didn't feel important enough for Cecilia.
All that time wandering wore down his confidence.
He was dense, I mean tense. He had dents in his skull.
Now, no dents but a bucketful of Bondo. Fab fiberglass gray matter
but it doesn't.
The impossibilities of such impossible possibilities!
Though plausable that the heart was healing in the jar, sad, pink apparatus
James invented a replacement heart to kiss when his robotic happiness became heavy,
which was often, given his proximity to the river.
No one is perfect and James had his flaw also,
violent hamstring spasms and disappearing in halogen lighting
James, once known for his optimistic perspective, briefly considers nihilism
under his pillow. There is a tooth under his pillow. There is sugar
that no one will taste. In the days of pewter water buffallo replicas
slogging through soggy lawn clippings is the closest James comes to real
as a barn swallow. He's concerned about that.
That and rabidity, drowning, paralysis, the dry palm of her hand, but mostly
his heart was breaking, being prone to such feelings
he decided that building a colossus was the logical persuit
to make a bigness he could aspire to