alaskan white lightning


you are being followed,
coming home from your
third-shift factory job,
to an honest wife,
a decent pair of kids,
humble
unassuming lifestyle
if only you knew
how much sin lies
in living under the
charade
that you are free from
our wrath
because you go to
church every
Sunday and
lip-sync each chorus
and pretend to be
pious
because you donate to hospitals
and are a volunteer
firefighter
if only you knew
what kind of hell you’re
going to burn in,
you and your family wouldn’t
be so comfortable in your
average-joe household,
even behind the deadbolts
and security system,
you wouldn’t wake up every
morning to your weak coffee
and bagels,
you’d be on your fucking knees
praying for
leniency,
and hopefully you’ve felt this somewhere
in that god-forsaken heart,
that you are being watched
by the bird sculpture in
front of city hall as you walk
downtown,
it turns its head, you don’t notice,
keep on walking as
the granite beast detaches
its claws from the base,
takes to the sky
and disappears,
you’re the only one who
knows what’s going on,
shaking in your work boots
and sweating, looking
around for a sign and then
the vulture swoops down on you
from above,
you catch it in a passing glance,
you’re running,
tripping over your shoelaces,
spread out on the ground
screaming no, not me
the fleeting shadows
the muffled screams
the resulting disappearance
of you down through
the subway tunnel with the rest of
society,
don’t even bother trying to call
the police,
or your mom,
you’re coming with us, fucker.




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