for my friend ruth.
stop
now
just stop
you're not right
in fact---
you're far from it
talking heads
strutting around
like
proud peacocks
making proclamations
changing ways
anger
resentment
frustration
stress
bubbling under the surface
the scale
tipping ever so slightly
towards
total anarchy and destruction
molten lava
pulsating under the surface
threatening to erupt
any moment
talking heads
stuck in the clouds
blind eyes
deaf ears
hurting
damaging
destroying
all that has been good
you will push us too far
and
then
will you be able to pick up the pieces alone?