There's immediate sadness in the sky this morning.
A little bit warmer: the sky
bloody with hints of last words (unhooded).
The man across the street in front of the bus kiosk
is in handcuffs; a policeman is dancing in the streets.
All the monsters in hell are dancing in Deerborn
Michigan; I harbor hate and heat in my heart.
I've considered moving to Palm Desert to weep over
memories I have of the 70s but decide: precision
is the highest form of honor and will opt for giddy alliance
with a future involving comic books and super
heroes, transit bus crashes and continuing cold.
I promise to sleep better in the future.
I promise to feel a cup of coffee amounts to God
and will surely cinch my future fame.
It is better to sip champagne than keep global prices down.
--jw
