In my juxtaposition of dimensions, edificed meticulously by a thirst for Notre Dame Cathedral, a fervent tune whistles through me the empirical cure for my malady: boredom, adrift on a rowboat from Constantinople Beneath me, a mollifying duvet of deception pads the fall. Above, the skyscraper stands the elite’s reception A euphonium speaks multitudinous anguish. My toes uncurl in a fragile bubble, levitating toward a rolling grey carpet many mistake for liberty’s Achilles heel I anticipate the euphoria as I receive the handshake from the electric blue hound.