deep in the woods there is chaos
and beneath your feet
a magma river is melting what is left
of solid ground.
radio waves from outer space
are scrambled into future languages
you can sense but not define.
bicycle tires hit a pumpkin shard
buried in leaves and your brains are scrambled.
a canadian flag at the border stands limp
while answering the border guard’s questions.
do you have anything to declare?
today you are called for jury duty.
what questions will they ask that enables them
to pass judgment whether you,
who are unsure just what in the hell anything means,
are fit to survey another’s life and render a verdict.
(C) W.C. Fleischman