I should start out by saying
that the trees look like a system of veins
and that it’s winter, obviously.
I notice this because the eastern wall
of my tiny apartment is a giant window
that lets the sun into my room every morning
to rip the blanket from me and get me to school on time.
Tonight I look out of my window as a skeptic
because the author of my geology textbook
thinks that volcanoes are made out of red paper.
And if the experts can believe such ridiculous things,
what right do I have to believe in anything?
The trees are not made of paper, fools!
they are made of wood,
and paper is made of them.
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