Antifreeze Sky Poem

They won’t let you lie down on your back
and look at the antifreeze sky at the zoo,
the one that’s free year-round.
They say it will atrophy your math and spatial memory,
so you won’t be able to understand your grocery receipts
or your bank emails with secret, hand-chosen
pictures to get to your security questions.
It’s definitely the same statue in that book
you checked out in medical school from the library,
the one near the pizza place where you first felt like
you could see a family eating lunch
and know for sure they were part of a powerful club,
the “win more” subset, that was disinterested,
overly successful, and numb to everything but disasters.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.