A slight striation brings us to an opalescent aquapit
of algae-grazing crustaceans and pedal boat taverns.

Take I-94 West past the tropical shrublands,
along a spidery slum of houses
built on planks of sun-bleached ipe and thatch.

Next to a regional food distribution terminal
shimmering with spray paint,
piles of beastmen lie about
expressing pleasure, or snoring in familiar dreamscapes.

Turn left at the Mangrove Swamp.

. . .

Read the rest at Social Text Online