To Spill; a Sequin Jacket; Public Opinion

His sequin jacket, so tight last night,
scatters itself across the water.

Parts always made up his whole,
the reveler never believed in Absolutes;  

nor did trees who say enough to a green monolith,
and spangle into scarlet, rust, cranberry.

Opinion these days, so all or nothing.
No glitter, this monster bully, no letting in

daylight, no gaps, no sense. It doesn’t decay,
spread, dissipate, spill itself for love and living.  

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