Fifteen minutes
they speak about them, an insignificant number of seconds
in your life, not long enough, not short enough to pile a change
like old clothes needed for other people
to be sold or given away
bit by bit
they say success follows you
like a trail of birds
from one corner of the room to another
this is the price of fame,
you lose your darlings before you open your eyes
and you see what you've built charred
by fires started with tongues of flame
wood and causal additions to old coals.
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