Driving around with my windows
down I consider the weather:
Rain, this industrial thing goes
mad, as I mull over heaven –

and how we’re not in it. Maybe
you think that? But you can be wrong
depending on the day, lately
I think that the sun has not shone

This brightly, or caused this much fun
since the paleolithic age.
Our habits of pleasure are gone
only when no potentials stay

with us like annoyingly bright
friends to pester us. The weather
is not an apocalypse type
event, but failed crops are. Never

over ’til it’s over. Seems trite
but true nevertheless. Don’t blur
boundaries using deep, dark mind
structurals that never quite were

what we thought they might be. Human
life is learning to live like mice
in the dark, under the booming
thunder, short grass, cat’s eyes, at night.

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