There is a giant moving sidewalk 

slithering through the countryside, 

leaving bits of seeds and giggles 

to fall among last century’s circuitry. 

Men cut perfect toast points 

while women harvest their own eggs. 

As long as there are doughnuts, 

the children will be fed. 

We hold our truths to be self-involved 

while across the ocean, 

the queen’s raven is missing 

and there is an abundance of bowing. 

The old ways are so good in retrospect 

– like mashed potatoes and masked balls – 

but it’s a fine line between Eden and 

chaos and we willingly try both.