CROPPED. ALL.

Steps infinite, each stubbornly disallowing the compass of a foot;
Shears plow through excess flesh,
Delirious frugality shooting crimson residues at uninspired designs;
Prodigality stuffed unceremoniously into death-cold dumplings waiting out nothingness at roadside shacks.
Censored tales grope for romance,
Tales fancying splendidly vintage flea markets selling ‘made in China’ replicas:
Taj Mahals all, nicely whitewashed;
Recorded Love screaming ‘U and I, Forever’ in piercing pink,
Infinitude atomized,
Raising a toast to the ‘now Cute Minimal!’
Shoulders patted over just-forged Five-Year-Plans: ‘Chalo! Let’s hoodwink!’
The Steps infinite,
Boasting of years vigorous, years of tap-dancing by a rebelliously misshapen sea;
The steps,
Now, stumps,
Simply…