Some are afraid
that they will fly away.
—John Ashbery
When one relishes the marks
made by doe-eyed vandals,
one is participating in vandalism.
Those of us who know that the
Ark of the Covenant was destroyed
in outer space already live in outer
space. The peaceniks turned to
violence at the crowded airport.
The tabloids had named all of the
celebrities who were extraterrestrial;
there were photographs on the covers
of each of them, lined up like disaster
relief stations at cash registers in stores
where otherwise the shelves were empty.
It was the year that grocery stores every
where were emptied with grace, made
barren by the already soulless who’d
pinched off inner toes learning how to
dance on point. The hard way. The lazy
generations were long gone. We were
all that were left on this poisoned planet.
While this was our primary inheritance,
we knew we deserved it as we shoved
our ways to the best spots in the airport
free of all units of transportation just to
glimpse our most beloved celebrity heroes.
