Sheets of ice are melting
and so is the ice in my glass
I’m drinking it fast so I can spit
words about you, like why are we
doing this dance in sneak shoes?
Why don’t we throw them off and
everyone else and come together
before the caps melt and get
lost in the weather; let’s converge
my high pressure and your low
and blow everything away when
our winds merge and spiral out
of controlling hands—there will be
little sands left to lay, but our plans
will involve nothing and no one
day after day until we drown in
the global flood pooling closer;
if you’re not ready to stay
I guess we’ll die alone
like we’re all meant to anyway