The camp was badly set up
Iceboxes froze the tents
criminals infiltrated
famine for adventure
The lake nearby would expand and contract
season after season
the camp was a stone´s throw
a margin´s rough scrub grow
Local farmers lost their cattle
which were grazing along the sides
ankles in the water
scanning for a new blade
of grass
to slit their throat with
The exhibit of the artist
had become a strange magnetic shrine
carved into the rock of an empty well
where neither time nor gravity seemed to obey
and the words and shapes confused generations, stigmas and preconceived norms
Like the lake it seemed to have little tides
breaking people´s honed ability to compare
throwing them out of their queues
extracting their putrid fomo
And immunizing them against popular declines
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