Pockmarked, crumbling veneer, stroll through decay. Now made smooth, renewed by resurfacing.
Grass. Snow golf. Dog bins.
Wilful destruction, the remains of things that could have been incongruent. Just things.
Like shouting at the full moon, their moment will pass beyond memory.
Pockmarks dulled by micro-abrasion. Erased by the impact of time travel.
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