with the headline —What's in it for you?—
printed in heavy bold letters above a complex
diagram of dynamic, fluid relations and long,
elaborate paragraphs of explanatory narrative,
precision-tuned for my peculiar demographic.
Steps away, pale eyes of coyotes reflect in my
light, regarding me as raw hamburger before
melting into hemlocks as I move past on my
way to the oracle—where with dribbling gulps
I drink the fuming libation, lie down on stones,
slumber and dream the vision I'm meant to see.
Here now, I'm back, holding a transcript of a
pagan catechism I found frozen in petroglyphs
and bearing the message—What's in it for me?
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