warm rain's haze sings
through distant lightning
but there are so many ways to be
that one yields to convenience
pre-occupation over choice
the calm beauties of tarnish
like my country's covered walkways
downtown malls which tunnel
to the statehouse under snow
while here they adorn sidewalks
perhaps americans would rather
they didn’t live in a society, so seize
technology as a frontier of reclusion
screens as summoning mirrors
though I speak only for myself
and appreciate our distaste for discipline
our turn towards panopteconimism
which lifts me like cocktail froth
an errant buoyancy in sugared riches
a scratch in the geography of abrasion
left by the imperial chisel
as it rules the surface plate
speaking only the one language
for power knows of angle only
as the corner we’ve been put in
to water or neglect
us orchids potted in the rot of empire