In an effort to preserve nature, the auction house
has started selling pieces of the Black Forest:
a leaf the chancellor stepped on,
a rock present at the blood moon’s bloodiest,
a fast food wrapper for a type of sausage.
As a long distance runner,
I’m more than concerned.
As a purveyor of outdoor sex,
I’m practicing financial restraint.
As someone under a spell,
I’m gathering my internal resources.
“It’s hard to know what to be most angry about,”
my wanton sex partner says. It’s been a Tuesday
up until now. Now, the dark. Yield sign in fog.