Quiet panic

The heat has taken our

Breath away, has robbed us 

Of free will. Everything must

Tilt towards the coolness

Between our self and this.

But where is it?

She is angry, she is raging 

The taste of Nature has curdled

And we were curdling it 

Deliberately, like we could 

Sell it on to the next generation

Or aliens as some sort of

Local delicacy roasted slowly

Between Venus and Mars

Or somewhere in that primitive 

Galaxy, so strong, so stupidly.


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