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The Four Stages of Global Warming Denial

1. It's not happening.

After putting the dog in a deadlock
there is something I should think about,
but I can't say there's anything different
where newspapers bury their arms
and keep their feet stuck out like sad lips.
The whole world sees that and says huh?
Every slopped response drains the sink.
Every dog has tomorrow to pay his debts.

2. Humans aren’t causing it.

I used to be able to drive with one foot
until it got locked in the steering wheel.
Now, using my hands seems upside-down.
But less depressing is the moon
getter closer to the earth and not changing
the color of my eyes.
How many important people make up poems
in their sleep?
How many enthusiastic presidents are left
eating potpies in their own beds?
I've seen real accidents happen
in my suburban neighborhood,
the one with the gate and the guard
and the nifty waterfall entrance.
I've seen bullets jet across the street
like a concerto of champagne corks.

3. We can't go back to the Stone Age.

Sometime in the 90's I expected my uncle to get me pregnant.
But that's what I expected from all older men with loose eyes.

Meredith has a baby now and she named her Meredith too.
I remember being a little girl who loved so many things.

I am dirt poor now, really, so poor I live in a house made of dirt.
I also live with a worm who can't stop eating the house.

Needless to say, my life is problematic because of the recession.
Thankfully, my throat magically unfolds into a tuba

so there isn't too much boredom where silence once was.
These are things you just have to wake up from,

like something big and exciting when the doorbell rings
and no one is there when you decide to open up.

4. But it’s going to hurt the bottom line of “dirty” corporations.

When I purchased my first radio I already knew
it wasn't good enough because of the speakers.
I'm 24 and half deaf from what happens to my head.

It may seem selfish, but nothing is beautiful.
The mountains are so far away I can barely fantasize
hiding my clothing there or sticking my head into a valley.

But this is what makes me sleep like sugar
in grout, which may be cracked or not
like those speakers that cut off every third beat.
Posted 04/22/13
This poem was originally published in Tinfish 20.
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