The fire was once a field.
The new world order
once the new world,
old gods tapping the glass
like drunks pausing
to feel the panes kick.
Here’s a new one:
what do you call a man
who falls over while
unwrapping a lozenge?
Hypoglycemic.
The kind of parent
who’d set fire to a summer
drive, tell their kids
to get out of the car
and walk. When the curb
has overtaken the road,
those left join the traffic
that ran them aground.
I’d like to help, but I’m too
busy protecting myself.