Chill

The situation’s even worse than feared.
I’m not a Chicken Little – I don’t cry
at bogeymen – I know the weather’s weird,
but never have I run heat in July,
until today. I’m calm but what-the-fuck
I say this week: As much as I hate guns,
the recent dead were slaughtered with a truck –
4 score of corpses taken by 10 tons.

I don’t suspect conspiracies. I doubt
we’re smart enough to be discreet or wise.
But networking we suss the icons out,
conform while forming trends, and socialize.
Evolved to quick-adapt, with market senses,
we’re blind to unintended consequences.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Poetry, Weather. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s