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As I gazed at
the golden delicious
sun, it turned into an apple.
The apple floated and fell furiously
into my waiting code-barren mouth.  Inside
my mouth, an cyb-oral surgeon jacked his neural
net into that apple.  The wires on the braces on
my teeth transmitted.  Gums pulled back and tricked
teeth pulled back to-chew apple into pulp.  The cyb-
oral surgeon dug into the pulverized sauce with silicon
and shovel in palm.  He's the assembler for the wall that
falls, the teeth that are now a compost, compote, compile
of apple and seed and skin, tartar white and ruby red.
Swallowing the apple, seeds and skin and meat, I smiled.
Now the FBI will always know who and where I am.  This
makes me smile.  I tilted back my head and my eyes were
aligned with where the sun used to be.  A small pore
opened in that spot and was clogged by an applet of
light.  Instantly infected and swollen by the
foreign fluoresces, the pore bulged and
blossomed into a cyber-cider cyst.  It
turned golden delicious.  It was the
sun, a golden delicious apple. 
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loo
k at t
he gro
und