I worry when it rains that my cellar
will fill with water and wonder how
long it will take for the backwash
from the fields of GMO corn to
make its way into the water supply
and how long after that to seep into my
cells through the pores of my skin
when I wash the dishes.
Barges rock the waters of the dirty
Ohio and atrazine flows through my
showerhead. The old mountains of
West Virginia are gone to smithereens
to light the way along Veterans
Memorial Parkway and turn the engines
of impoverishing industry and keep me
cool on these hottest of days.
In L.A. the smog makes for lovely
sunsets and in Denver the river
runs dry so no worries about floods
in the cellar while at the other end of
the Colorado the golf courses of Phoenix
remain preternaturally green, making it
so much easier to spot the white cup
when the crazy haboob comes through.