with so much
that's righteous
it'd ruin our ability
to continue
if we noticed.
Doesn't matter
who you've hurt
or how
many times now—
morning birds will
sing to you;
when you're driving
through the night
to escape from the truth,
the impossible soup
of atoms in the air
will part
to let you through
and salute;
and just when you think
you are finally living
on the last line
of a prayer
at the tail-end of time,
tomorrow arrives
without help,
on a dime—
and there's nothing
you can do.
