Small Concerns
New leader of the free world,
Riots both silent and raucous,
Flames spitting out from trashcans
And barrel drums,
Demonizing the tearstained faces
Of children and mothers, men emasculated
By their failure to provide,
Dreamers of fairy tales.
And it’s a lovely thought—
That things would be different with another elect.
Always greener, the grass,
Though before us lies a vast plain of sienna,
A box of matches,
Beyond us a whole universe, laughing (I should think)
The point we call Sun dwarfing us by more than a million to one,
Itself dwarfed by trillions of others.
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