the astroturf blisters, bubbles in the hollywood hills,
the forests of the world become landfill, no bushes
left to burn, to illustrate those gutsy gods
of fire, old deities grown senile on donuts
and cheap cheesyburger bites, their powers idled
away in puny farts, billions of eyes lift
to read the sky: huge fire clouds billowing
out like wild miracles, a festival at
the end of time, the aliens' spaceship is
about to arrive,

the world dances in its
deserts, gulches, dried up
streets like a mob of
extras in an old movie
marathon, nostalgia
rules the skies