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Evangelical Economics Yes we’re buying yes who could afford not to. Yes we are relaxing to the music piped out to the sidewalk, admiring the prices, pure products in the windows undressing, cicadas sloganeering in the trees, infesting the summer campaign, burrowing into and into . . . Yes the beautiful detonation on the horizon, the sun become less mechanical in nature. It is all music to die to, to keep dying to because we are fine because everyone is. And here we are, counting pennies — One is always climbing [Lord] How many to summit the monetary mountain. How many to sleep in foiled clouds. To live the life of roadside castaway flowers sucking color from the air in the city that will not have us, city of glass structures looming lightly as holograms. One is climbing, two is scuttling down [Lord] We two ruminating money in and money out, the everlasting figure equivalent to I into you, the division we are, a number approximating the cicada eggs in a square mile of Jersey woods, or the number of stars in the milky way. 55 Diorama with a 20-Watt Bulb Inside Child hunkered down in grass, breaking it for letters. “Here’s T,” he says, “here’s I” — stalling in the parking lot. Sharks can’t get you on land, the father voice goes. And the child: “On Scooby Doo, they do, they do.” I turn to take him in — he is shepherding ants into a bath they don’t exactly want. The three worlds of us. Lambs. Simply a matter of going over the bluff — everything really — and everything else adrift in international waters. 56 ...

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