restaurants and designer shops
within my voice box were burned down.
the occupants, stunned.
pyrotechnics were in full bloom,
and the angelic orchestra then played
their violins loudly somewhere.
performed a sad, early afternoon party song
for everyone.
and their ghost mimes did scream out
into the faces of the young and old.
it’s scary; it’s not brilliant, but
it’s good that our atoms are
still alive.
