Hard to remember the order of it all—
you came—you stole—
you said—toenails are superfluous—one ear almost
as good as two—you don’t need your
we hated you—
until you—surgically removed
with our systems—
Time leaks, mutates, gives us our momentum back; we now embrace
the social effects of your aftershocks: the Pentecostal Diplomats,
Republican Pop Artists, Mormon Dadaists, Communist Action Painting Nuns,
Ecofriendly Evangelical Drag Queens: our democracy replenished.
“Love Me Tender” is still sung at all sporting events;
Plato read by every swimming pool; memories are mistresses.
Culture is an amoeba that will continue no matter the apocalypse,
no matter the why of looting, no matter the thrill of—intimacy of—after you.