Mote by Gerald Yelle

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That’s why we don’t know where we were going:

Our leader has something in his eye that

keeps him from seeing what’s right in front of him.

He must have something in his ear too: a bug

or a book saying “Read me. Turn the pages with

your eyelash, eyelash boy.” He tries. Now he

blinks. He rubs his headand soaks it in a pail of

water but that eyelash devil just won’t come out. 

Cause it’s not a dust mote. It’s not an eyebeam.

It’s a poke in the eye with a sharp stick. He’ll jump

down one elevator shaft after another hoping

to shake it loose and he’s taking us all with him.

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