For Figgy
The crisp-suited skullmen dismissing our concerns
with a wave and a permanent grin.
'Think of it more,' he enunciates tonguelessly,
'as a... change of venue.'
One of his associates gestures expansively
towards the roaring furnace mouth.
Its iron fangs clang shut
then ratchet back open, belching clinkers
that glow and glow like powerups.
We look at each other uncertainly.
The skullmen adjust their grey cuffs,
continue smiling.
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