LATE STAGE CAPITALISM BLUEBERRIES

Send money to animals,  

and to people who never left, 

send money across space + time 

because you have this weird money 

to send across space + time. 

Repost something vigorous. 

Was it first made with paint?

Did the paint kiss the maker’s elbow, 

for a second did it look like a scab?

It’s more my fault than yours
(or yours)

I could do better (I can) –– 

make rules (follow them) –– 

I have no children, no singular 

emergency, and so much raw 

material:  garden of dirt, 

fancy water filter sitting in its 

box in the basement. 

Eternal calm before storm 

(steam in shadow), 

living in these places 

where nothing shows (it does), 

shiny glass buildings that multiply 

so cleanly, trash vortex 

at the end of the alley

the squirrels breed gigantic there, 

challenge the lost romeo cat 

to colonize the strip mall solar panels. 

Homes that cosplay frontier, 

homes that cosplay contentment,

hang it in cursive mylar 

from the walls. 

None of us wanted this,

but we ushered it in. 

Is it all poison? And if I think that, 

am I the parasite?

Can you love a poison, 

a parasite, 

just for being true?