We'll Have The Boys Back Home By Christmas

Me, who sifted through the symbols,
gold miner on a creekside, in love
with the facts, bread crumbs
down the path to the future I chose
from the constant scan of what
means what. Yes, paleo hunter
looking for twig breaks to see
which way the wild boar went...
food for two days, gratitude, pride,
and maybe a moment's rest...
belt buckles, shoes, numbers
on the boarding pass, key fobs,
phones, silver content of a fork,
thinness of the wine glass,
volume of fake wood inside a car,
type on everything from clothes
to billboards, headlines about the same
old shit...and I whisper to friends
and family, I'm better than the rest!
Processor! We'll be going to war again
with the best bombs, bullets, toxins
money can buy, as we use up all
the water and soil until the die-off
comes, when we're crushed by clues
on who's sorry, who's next, and why
there are no extraterrestrials.