4/3/2020 (a poem)
No one saw it coming but
death arrived in a batsuit
and crapped all over our party.
The American party with the pretty white fence
which insulated us from
poor people,
Mexicans,
blacks,
and poor Mexicans and blacks.
Welp, Look America, here’s a new friend:
death.
Maybe you haven’t given her much thought lately,
but look how stealthily she creeps into
your mind like a toxic lover.
I’ve been dancing with her for a while,
trying to introduce my friends so
they can keep her on their minds too.
It’s a fool who rejects my invitation.
More foolish still is he who knows her
but doesn’t prepare for their wedding night.
e
