America the Bloatedful
Our logos are lit by warm air,
crawling colder by the minute.
Our forests burn irrevocably,
torched like self-lit monks in protest.
Our freeways lead to our future
which will also be paved over soon enough.
But there is hope,
because somewhere a canary sips from a birdbath
for the very first time.
Don't be a mouse, be a lion
