I bury live shrimp in scalding sand
we’re all at war with something
& how do you love anything
when it only lasts seconds before
a bomb blasts it. Saying you can’t sleep
through the noise is a lie & imagine
the inverse being true— there’s a black speck
in my eye that only gets larger when you gaze past
me to search for above-ground transit
terminals & I want to think the end of everything
will be a relief I’m so guilty, so fucking guilty.
A man stands on my street corner selling
hats when it’s sixty out some of them
block the sun completely,
he tastes our fear he tastes metal. You & I
are going to die every channel speaks by eleven
I don’t flip past the idea. Since then I’ve stopped
eating animals, joined the city public interest
group but don’t solicit, throw pamphlets
down sewer grates on the way to my minimum
wage job but even the water stops swishing
them around oh I need to hear a song again–
how about the one you played on my solo string
you said I’d never be sorry.
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