Flippant Fringes Where We all Dwell

Fringes oh we all believe we are

Fringes snarled on the head of beach.

Out of reach of center

Where her truest children creep.

Accosted by format

Hustling gently to your knees

Condemnation of your conflated breasting of humility

You mistake his nod for affirmation

And that clucking sound you mistake for expressions of adoration.

If you always pray in the same old spot

You'll always get what you've always got.