the hot throat of the volcano,
a sun that daily drops into the void.
Comb the drying riverbed for drink.
Strut your bird-hipped body.
Practice a lizard grin.
Don't think.
Stretch out your tail. Walk, as you must,
in a slow deliberate gait.
Don't look back, Dinosaur. Dust is dust.
You'll leave your bones, your fossil feet
and armored eye-lids.
Put your chin to the wind. Eat what you eat.
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