Fruit for Vacancy

by Dylan Karlsson

“It’s   all   true,   the   warehouses   have
taken over,”

a local news anchor pulled  his shirt  to
show
barcodes whipped into his salt-pressed
skin.
A tipple  unearthed   these   warehouse
seeds
somewhere   in  a  silicon   valley  tech-
mine about  three  or  four  years  after
jobs died.
The seeds are  droned into dry  ground
and watered with primer.
So  dust   gives    way    to   stuff  when
farmers
plant  their  seeds,  knicks  for  father’s
day, mothers’  with  no  days  and  kids
with no parents to order presents.  This
gardener,
frivolous  with  his  wrist,  plants  where
he  pleases:   a  seed  for  the  shopping
mall,  the  hospital,  and the elementary
school.
He  somehow  gained  admittance  to  a
church,
and  placed  a  seed  right  on  the altar.
It   outgrew   its   religious  right.  When
the bishop
saw  the  size,   he  ordered  more  and
more
bodies  of  Christ to  fill their unwanted
vacancy.
The air in the town thinned  and turned
sterile,
and fluorescent lights replaced the red
sun.    A    welcomed    exchange     of 
business cards.

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