Our work has only just begun.

The chaos to come is real

and yet all part of the game.

Situation normal, all fucked

up — whoever came up with that —

“snafu” — a f*****g genius!

And now we face the rise of a

demented, damaged dolt

who has somehow managed to

gather a cult of mesmerized

mothers against drunken driving

to ride off the cliff with him.

So, yes, there’s some cleanup to do.

It isn’t normal, and yet

it is, this snafu we find

ourselves in. We are the authors

of this book we’re reading, this game

we’re playing. The chaos to come

is real, but we have made it.

Our work begins with the sunrise.

The cleanup of the moment

is already happening.

We have our work cut out for us

to reclaim the democracy

of the ever-changing sky.

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