Busker

Just a jet riding down to the runway,

growling sound, all around, our future.

Today's the day to wake up brave,

as they punish us one day at a time.

What he did was sing out loud

about the women he wanted to fuck,

with the blunt force of a condom falling

from the guy's wallet as he pays for dinner—

police chief's wife, banker's daughter,

his high school principal one more time.

And he ordered us around sometimes

like he was building the worst army ever,

singing out the truth loud as a mad chef

yelling at the kitchen for more flavor!—

"We turned the sun into a warning,

so each dawn arrives as threat.

"Wake up. Respond. Wake up. Respond.

What are you going to do? S-s-s-stop?"

Invisible us, we pray: love come ocean wave!

We are broken toys. Only a song can fix us!

He showed up as if we dreamt him real.

On his own magnet, guitar of honey dust,

with a saucer full of Martian fun. The yes.

Corpuscle choir practice. Neuron garage band.

They say the winds took him away

one day, like a mighty sailing ship.

It rains harder than before. Less stars.

Sun like an ice pick. As gravity grows.