It’s possible the world is saved
from just a simple smudge
on someone else’s monitor,
or things could fall the other way
and we’d watch it all just wash away
forever.
It’s better that there is no plan
because new things can sometimes
show themselves if everyone
is working on the spot.
This time I’ll take a different shot,
and set my aim on something I can hit.
Maybe the hat off your head
that you are wearing crooked
tilted to the side.
The front door was left
open wide for anything
that was walking by
to enter without warning
and surprise us all just
lurking through the hallways.
The bluish glass windows
on the lower floors
could not hide the burning
car crash at the intersection
everyone’s afraid of.
Tomorrow we are planning
to return some things
we didn’t need,
or didn’t work as
specified.
And to honor all the ones who died
they’ll use their names in calls for
violent vengeance, that will spread
like swarms aphids taking bites
out of the leaves.
Teleporting Typewriter 