I wrote this for a poetry slam. Not that I plan on going to one or know of any. So, really, this is just what happens when I'm bored and alone with a pen and some bourbon.
Baby, when we are long gone and nothing is left but roaches.
Will our house’s collapse in the forest make a sound?
I hope not, we’ve disturbed this earth too much!
In fact, I hope a bear shits right where we used to fuck.
You know, in that sunny, southeast corner
only 8 feet and a wall from my truck.
And I hope the pickup is a home for rattlesnakes.
It just seems fitting.
I hope that the oil is gone from the lakes.
I want it to be as beautiful as it was!
Like that view we paid for
before they built that other house in front of the window.
A house that looked just like ours.
And another, and another, each with a street light
to wash out the stars.
Rejoice, as they Crumble!
By wind, lightning, floods.
Goddamnit friends, let’s be more humble!
This is not our land alone.
Respect the streams, the ferns, the stones,
Because no matter how comfy you make your life,
Just know that a bear will shit on your grave,
leaving fertile seeds.
And the roots of weeds will wash away your deeds.
Rejoice and embrace your peril!
I know I will.
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