for Natasha and Shane
Pick white or black.
It ain’t chess, just a race
to multiply the meanings
of simple words
like “divide” or “unite”.
polls are for assholes
but whether the truth blows
this way or that
here’s a fact you can take to the bank:
Miami is lower today
than it was yesterday.
Deniers aren’t buying, they’re selling.
It’s a Great American Land Grab,
Better offers lie further up
and west, in the mountains of Colorado.
Think of it as a redistribution of wealth
with Florida holding the short end.
Tampa’s still temperate
but when the brain drains up
tepid turns to turpitude
too fast for attitudes to batten down.
The boat rocks for no other damn good reason
than lines lean to a frown
and we stand
because to lie is to sleep—
according to the makeshift reason
we’ve hammered up.
Nietzsche has left the building.
He’ll wander now in divine madness
up in the high desert with Dr. Kant’s monster,
leaving us in an instant exposed
to the mundane insanity
of this sinkhole, passed
from torch to pitchfork to pink flamingo, oh
the irony’s rich. Is there any limit
to the poverty of our complaint?
Or has plastic worked its way
into the sand of all our questions.
Think about that.