We’re stuck in a snowglobe

heating up like a greenhouse

a breathing being, heart still beating

and we can’t

get

out.

we spell our names out in the smoke we blow

on nights & weekends, not just

from our mouths but spoken from the

tails of cars and towers

rising to

the sky--oh, it’s so

beautiful

synthetic stars are all that’s left

our city lights, stripped of their depth

but drunk at a rooftop party,

it’s so silly and

we’re so far removed:

humans, we’re not dying, we’ve just

found

our

groove.

but now the billboards flash

with a new kind of art--

saying hey, we’re dying

of cow fart.

methane emissions are

bringing us down;

the glaciers, they’re melting

we’re going to drown.

the coal wants to burn

the car wheels want to turn

this Machine is too keen

on reaching its urn(unless we learn)