There should be more to say as the storm comes in
on the doppler radar, color-coded for rain and snow.
There aren’t as many geese flying down the page anymore.
Now I sell personal protective equipment to people
with money plus guns. Our thoughts go out
begins what I write. Later, Remember,
body armor saves lives. What do I want to see
in a movie, besides some of the dead coming back to life?
Revenge, and/or attractive people executing
a complicated plan. I eat the free food left out
in the office kitchen. I go back, write the user manual
for the government’s needle-proof search gloves.
Conference Call. Outside the window, a possum
splits open the salon’s garbage. A starling
gathers the hair for a nest. This conference room
is named for a river. They’re all rivers. On the lawns
of the other office towers, lines of baby turkeys
follow their mothers. The building warns us
there’s a fisher cat cornered in the parking garage.
Past that, there’s a man selling cards with the alphabet
printed in sign language. There’s an entrepreneur
walk of fame. A shoe floats in the fountain.
Under that, someone’s reading I caught this morning
morning’s minion on the Orange Line.
The train exhales. Evil is real.
Shove it, make it drop its phone.