End Times

We say it where I’m from,

to mean: what’s fucked up is by design,

God gives

signs, pay

attention to numerology.

Five-hundred-year hurricanes

so often now birds

have learned to thrive

by flying in the eye

of storms and in the face

of such low,

low Black Friday

it must be

a sign of the end of times.

Curses are breaking;

geniuses are living

past 27; they have stickers on avocados

now that let you know when they’re ripe.

It means the Cubs have won

the pennant.

We’re running low on fuel

at the pump but thank God

a triceratops was here

and now my champagne

’96 Nissan Maxima has gasoline

for Taco Tuesday.

A total solar eclipse

is only visible from Earth.

This is a miracle. There are fountains

now that give you every kind of soda.

Excess carbon emissions

will ruin a good sweet tea,

like too much sugar.

It means you can still light

faucet taps of homes on fire

in parts of Kentucky.