Grapes

People are running down all these streets. People are padding things for long mailing. People are staring at paintings which pretend to stare back but which are inside movies where people are pretending to be other people concerned about people, and running all the time. People are racing towards a horizon trying to survive, but what they are fleeing is uncertain and outside the drawings which people have made. People are in disbelief that people end up here somehow and are holding each other, holding tiny animals and getting on buses, holding novels by Kundera and erasing people with words spoken into a phone or a computer. People are putting down the phone on people and eating the apple while staring at Renaissance paintings of people on fire screaming at people who set them on fire who are thinking about the paradoxical, unfathomable nature of divinities which assume the form of people to speak to the people who have appeared and are waiting for the revelation to know how to react to other people. People are eating grapes in the supermarket and not paying for them but these are tiny people who race after bigger people who slap their hands and laugh the day before they will die leaving people to wonder later at paintings in which people hold grapes. People are not always human people but sometimes a different kind of people the gods made too who have furry legs and spend their lives fucking in forests and eating grapes. People are closing a book on beautiful clouds of words floating towards ideas of people that people cannot hold, really, nor should they even want to. People are stuck with things that happened to people who were not ready to stop being people but had to stop suddenly which is almost funny.