Dear sweet filthy world,

Photographs can lie,
so put away forbidden playthings,
that's how you got killed before.

Why, oh why,
can't an ordinary stand up
with the nefarious gods
on the second floor?

For the other end of the telescope
is leaning toward science fiction,
and this love from a cold land,
this sad burlesque,
is a bottle of smoke
on the deep dead blue,
one watt above darkness.