Measure Once by

Heikki Huotari

The gist of it comes within fifteen human
feet of me then changes course, then changes
horses, then the prisoner selected is a function of
the luminosity and shape of faith, the cross-
communications of some random hazards, rabbits
from the past. A minor character, a carpenter, a
pencil in his lips, misfits an odd shaped element of
dry wall. Taking comfort out of context, guess
who’s Doppler shifting now. Of helium balloons
you’ll need eleven, not one needle, not one ham-
mer, not one hat, but pasteurized, homogenized, and
gravity, and as exact.

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