At the Dinos exhibition
The child, the children, my children
Want to reach Dimetrodon.
Although they know these no longer exist
Because they are prehistoric
One has taken a rod
Another has picked a flower.
-Dad, mom
I want to give it to Dimetrodon
To play with me
And I gave it to Dimetrodone
When they go out for a walk at night
And come to haunt them
The shooting stars
With the castanets
With the mortar
And the tambourine
That moon makes ring
The prettiest boy says.
They are leaving the tent
They are already leaving
More than four dinosaurs
Remainig crying.

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