What’s In A Man Shell…?

The other day a man spit sunflower shells into a pond where oracles
once sold wishes for the coins gleaming at the the bottom up to the
surface like promises – while a mathematician calculated just what
those coins could buy if he were to shop at a flea market for instance,
“Could I half furnish a house after redeeming those coins or would
the cost in time needed to collect them, make the collecting a rather
profitless endeavor?”

A swan makes a half effort to nibble at a few of the sunflower shells
but is just not hungry enough to peck at nothingness for all too long,
unlike the man nearby reading a book regarded for its wisdom, who
devours the words he his reading like a glutton. The man wonders if it
will be in this moment or the next that the angels will come and lift
him up to salvation. He will say to them “Be careful with my head, you
know that it is full to the brim with my careful estimations.”

The sunflower shells are streaked black and white, which reminds a man
contemplatively smoking a cigarette near the pond, of his opinionated
father – who, if he were there, would have an immediate and condemning
opinion about the other men at the ponds shore. Which wouldn’t really
have much of an effect on any of them; you see all the men near this
pond have already been baptized by the waters of a bigger Father having
already abandoned them.

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