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Diorama
- Red Hen Press
- Chapter
- Additional Information
62 Diorama That summer they made chalk outlines of everything: on every street the rag-doll limbs of a jumper, every bank with its flat pile of powder to step over, the security guards, policemen, each robber with what could have been a flower sprouting from the stocking on his head. When the televisions vanished we watched the rectangles on our living room floors, any ant or insect’s aimless march the perfect metaphor for life, until it too snuffed out like a candle in one brief puff of granular nirvana, its stillness too small for even a calcium deposit to wrap around. How simple then it made the world, one less dimension to worry about—the walls cut down with the trees, all shade symbolic. Every view was the bird’s eye view, every path it’s own map. Imagine a straight line from wherever you’re going to where you used to be. Look here: This yellow patch was the dog my car struck. ...