The individual lives—
Comfortable, terrible—
Tilt like little tailor’s pins
On the broad swaths of cloth cut
To create the costumery
Of historical events.
No, but this is wrong. The pins
Would also have to cut cloth,
Be cloth, even be tailors,
So the analogy fails.
And yet, as with small neurons
Crowded in corners of brains,
The individual lives
Seem stuck in, not cutting, thoughts.
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