Soda in a plastic cup,

fried chicken on a Styrofoam plate,

the scent of heavy metals

pours from exhaust pipes:

the economy will always be more important

than the air we breathe,

another house going up

in a long row of houses.

America, my body is your body

gutted and stuffed with cash.

It’s hot enough to wilt every flag and still

the parade goes on.

No doesn’t ever mean no

when there’s profit on the line,

the temperature a hundred

degrees and counting

and no alternative facts

will stop the sea levels rising.

America, it’s only intermission

and we already know how this will end.