Deliberately I choose to walk to BART.
The news makes me feel headachy and tense.
I figure something on my way will start
me laughing or at least deflect. Defense
against reality by exercise
and air: I’ll breathe in depth and make my pace
a balanced brisk affair; I’ll synthesize
the rise of ignorance, the fall from grace.

The only consolations I can find?
We must deserve the future we will get.
Myopia’s a symptom of our kind,
so uninformed by school and Internet,
distractable, unfair, and lacking breadth…
I guess there may be benefits to death.