Mushroom shuffling,
ardent pen pushing,
unwise dreaming,
game hen.
Distracted again,
it pushes the button.
Things are happening.
Wild, unprecedented things.
Mouths are open, bogged up with mistakes,
little nests of some discrepancy or other.
The crowd is stuck in mid-air.
The crowd is going wild.
Their minds are bolted.
It cannot be.
Game-pen stops what it is doing,
looks up,
blinks wildly,
and continues as usual.
The crowd is in tears.
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