Under

It’s already too late?

Photo by Renaud Confavreux on Unsplash

I want to stay home and let the world
fight itself while we shiver under the blankets

and we’ll have long discussions about what
mode of fantasy we want to escape to

what screen to play on, what food to hold
before it vanishes — so late we might even fall asleep —

what artificial walls we’ll examine while the whole
paradox unravels itself then puts itself together again

but different; you know we’re not the ones who
know all the lines but it’s getting cold out there…

all right all right: we all know it’s getting hot out
there and maybe someday so hot all the blankets

will just be fossils and they’ll line the streets
alongside bank statements showing balances

only in the negative, and you’ll have to make
your own wine if you’re wanting something to drink

because gods! it’s getting so hot. I mean the end
of October and we’re still in t-shirts and some people

come over to the house in sandals because there’s
no snow yet no snow yet and I do…