Merry Go Round
The decline of Western Civilization
is an after-taste easily washed away
with a sip of diet soda. The world’s
seeds stored in an Arctic stronghold
are ruined due to the permafrost
melting. I still love humanity, I do,
despite its addiction to money
and methamphetamines. When did
we stop building labyrinths and
rocket-shaped cars? I’m broken
and still expected to make a speech
at the staff picnic. Clouds baptize
cattle with rain which is why people
eat them. Troy is forever burning
yet we all shop online. The search
and rescue party ran out of champagne.
Let’s toast to our disengagement!
So what if seabirds’ bellies are full of
plastic, they can fly to the lost isles.
My analyst thinks I’m perforated
with losses, my heart a sieve, but
I tell him I enjoy a good mash-up
as much as anyone. Joan Jett and
The Beatles. Guitar-solos are no match
for clean living. My fortune cookie
says go back to dangerous playgrounds,
steel merry-go-rounds, that feeling
of spinning and spinning and suddenly
flying off the face of the earth.
By Chris Banks