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The train driver is startled, and I
am not myself, my thumb
presses upon the rails

It's one of the trillions
of temporary states
of my consciousness

in which everything is allowed
and possible, in the childhood
of the universe

No you or me
how real is that?
A green door

is just art, made
from a piece of tree, exhibited
in pop-up museum earth

Poem 2324
Amsterdam, 2019-06-30

Continuation of poem 2323. I am I and you... (June 30th, 2019)
Collection: The light of words 
Keyword: Fantasy: playing 
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