A vacant lot with shards of bottle glass
appears below the train a brilliant field
of sunlit gems, although you know an ass-
hole did it, drunk & thirsty, muck-congealed.
A mushroom cloud, a tidal wave, a storm
of any kind appears magnificent.
The lamb-and-lion that’s supposed to warm
our hearts? It bores the most intelligent.

Too bland the good authority displays
as aim and end: those unattractive scenes
of pasture peace. Our mischief nature strays
from sunny paths and antiseptic dreams.
Hermetically and Lokily designed,
we twist a grin and deviate in mind.