Pandora
She found fury in the streets,
spitting Passion and Purpose,
throwing away apathy
and a brick or two.
The crack of glass and outrage
didn’t shake her,
zeal immune to volume.
She built a bonfire below City Hall,
and waited for the Negotiators.
Years later, she fell to the east,
and saw herself again
on a broke-down bus,
wires peeking from
the back of her dress.
Tick, tick.
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