cholesterol yes

future portrait perfect self or the mega-collapse
of sky-scrapers, the wretched lawnmowers and
guns in every direction, some one-word messages
for all those in search of easy answers, like old cars

or God, that noisy ceiling fan or this silent bedroom,
regret, the heavy sound of doors closing, that dear,
you forgot something even if you wanted to, to
those about to leap with and without parachutes

just say something, anything, bring solidarity to this
thin retreat and explain to posterity our reasons
in a sympathetic light, for everything worth anything
was summed up on a Wendy’s wrapper today

the future is sentences without words, a friend who
never writes back and a self-implosion waiting to
happen anyway, so just “Do What Tastes Right” and
toss it away: there are 256 ways to order this hamburger.