Hauntology as Imitations
You consider the vicissitude of rituals, shifting in your thrifted nightgown to lower yourself in bathwater deluged with imported salts & sounds—but you haunt like a tourist, relying on being lost & mused, relying on being suffused with dreams where things that look like deer gather in their coven across the starry road, staggering & holographic. Pixelated by night, their bodies almost camouflage with sky but their eyes twitch beady & yellow from a flash of high beams—their glow unspools, stitching itself into projections of pale-patterned & astigmatism-infused light.
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