Powerful morons have nuked our future
but the present disasters leave movies and beer
relatively unscathed. There will be a party tonight;
at some point I'll separate from my friends
and stand on a dark front lawn,
running a flimsy claw across the horizon.

There will be a death in the water
and a kiss in the apartments.
There will still be a few pets, instincts
broken by humanoids, that haven't run off to die
inside some prophetic vibration.
There will be a warmth in the crust,
there will be heavily protected sex.
We'll fall in love just in time
to see our lovers frozen to the sidewalk.

Powerful morons have nuked our future
and we'll pelt those powerful morons
with foam cups and napkins
while they scythe through us in religious airless
ness.