We are wooden elves --
dusky elves watching woods --
almost amber,
backlashed orange
crossing a bow.
But we've forgotten
what we came to watch.
We are city elves --
black and white --
almost Victorian,
our hair under wigs
full of bows.
But we've forgotten
to care for our fellow.
We are concrete monkeys --
jabbering flea bitten fallacy --
under the Tower of Babel,
unable to help ourselves
or the earth.
What elves can we now become?
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