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.