two unrecyclable cups
5 dollars and seventy cents
two girls in immodestly placed fabric, where did the mystery of it all go?
one family:boy strapped to fathers chest in what seems a revelation of modern gender roles
one apologetic waitress putting shade over my table on a remarkably cloudy sunday
one hungry backpack assassin behind
one blue suited dick, trained to eat us all alive
4 out-of-towners walking out of the downtown madness, i dont blame them
3 strangers sticking close together, feeling strength in numbers
against such an odd war to be fighting
i sit alone.
and imagine the end.
it will be crowded.
i am claustrophobic.
and if the end
comes on a home game day
43,795 wont survive because goddammit pujols was supposed to save us.
2.1 billion wont survive because goddammit jesus was supposed to save us.
the earth and i have done the math. the world will be a beautiful place. the earth will be a beautiful place. the earth will be a beautiful place.
when numbers no longer exist.
and it's just us.
whose names will be changed back to etchings in the cave
whose sustainability will no longer be an obscure rhetoric of post modern galleries
whose lives didnt need saving, because we knew we were living
whose deaths will not be counted
we are the forgotten
and will live forever
as our mother intended
when she spat on our birthmarks
and whispered our spirit
into forest fires
we cause the end
in search of starting over
we count backwards
trying to move forward