I will call this a box, a balance, a wheel. There are spare parts
everywhere eager for the curious
reach and tug, rust rubbing off
on your palm. Trust yourself
again even if the balance is
questionable, the washers
permanently welded on.
Even if you have no idea
what will pour from the etched
bucket and curved throat.
Imagine you are in
kindergarten and this
is the first day of the world.
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