SEALTEST
That was an ice cream, way back when.
I'm not sure if it's still around - one of
those wonders of memory now; and like
bleached-blond hair of old, meaning
nothing now as well.
-
The trees begin turning their leaves;
orange and yellow twists, drying up.
Another season changes, chiming
in with decibel-bells by which we
are attuned. What goes on can
never really escape us.
-
Russia? Uncaps another madman to
throw sludge our way. The American
efforts range wide to nothing; our ways
and means seem failing. Flailing? OK,
that too. Bestial non-combatants line
up in New York City. The UN fiddles
while all Rome burns?
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