poem
Volume 21, Number 1

Window Shops

Don’t bother coming around this planet
before the scheduled apocalypse blows
a wide enough hole in the stratosphere.
The planned expansion of the new center
for girth control comes at a troubled time
for the hairline industry. With all that,
someone will always invest in futures
of something. This is what we call freedom
neither apathy nor introspection,
much less dwelling on exercise outfits,
but always churning concepts of value
till whatever machine you are playing
vomits symbolic wealth. Everyone else
wanders through the stunted trees wondering
when the park service will finish the job,
or if it’s on hold till the next release.


—M. A. Schaffner