imagine your self

a doll, perpetually

five. Repeating

motions, same flicker

of bright eyes looking left, right. She is afraid of dolls.

What does she see, looking into the mirror?

                                            If

                                            All zombie

                                            encounters are

                                            little deaths

                                            then

Roy Baty

slowly

winding

down                          

          is

                an epic

love?