Until recently, this was privately secret:
the walker from within, to under the paywall
she scoped the floor for your leftovers and made sentences out of them

as a cowgirl into a saloon, closer to you,
—imagine, doll, a 3D visual popping toward your nose—
she frequented the establishment to spy on her-ders

She facaded as the negotiator bringing parties together
as segregator keeping Romeos from ravejing Juliets
at a distance of 1818 millimeters

In a moment of her Multidimensional topology she’d swirl to
Dali’s drooping pre-wake mustache above a grin
Accusing the man, leftfully so, of misogyny

When reading a token
she was purely sense-making
meaningless to you, perhaps
yet, ma, between sensible nonetheless



—animasuri’23-’24