living in the anthropocene, i wont deny
myself life's little pleasures--dumplings made
by hands around the corner, an uber drive
in the cold, frames that suit my face and skin
tone. living in the war machine, i wont
pretend to be poor no matter the life
i've lived, the things i cant afford. we buy
groceries, but it's on the government tonight.
we buy deodorant, towels, it's on the bank.
we buy wine for $15.59 from the local bottle shop,
sit and consider why our country is so sick,
why smoke and corn syrup are killing us so
quickly, why we are so heavy and tired and mentally strained,
because, you reply, we are living in the death star
and with all our strength, we pretend we are not.
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