It smells like dynamite in here, maybe not dynamite, but caps, the ones cracked open between rocks.

Not sure about the righteous or bad. They both have the power to corrupt. Plus they knock on the door mighty early. . . or late. Either or.

Am I left to figure it out, global warming, class action, fake news, bitcoin, psychology, gravity, astrology, all the rest. . . it’s like the g-spot; if 95% of the experts are arguing and can’t decide. . . what hope is there for us mere mortals.

****

Flippant, my mother said.

Now we had a relationship.

The day I was born, she probably, thought,

fuck!

I’m too old for this.

40 was old back then.

***

I love the word flippant and

guzzle, tankard, daredevil,

also a bunch others.

***

Knowing words

I can’t pronounce.

***

Still, look where we are, dreading the news,

forgetting what got us here,

the dust, all the wind,

floods and

thunderstorms.

***

I’m okay with it!

***

It seems indiscriminate.

The best we can hope for,