fake barns

like armageddon in a meadow the buildings fall down all around us one nearly crushes your unconscious but it turns out you’re standing square inside the negated space of its sole window this is after all the cars have passed their idiot madrigals still thumping our ear drums this is after the last packaged organics are confiscated for storefront display and the one percent pose as cyborgs to qualify for an employment cruise to china but after the fall of such an action-packed empire even the apocalypse feels anticlimactic so we camp out alongside the lapsed countryside turnpike under the shade of the fake barns with their non-tarmac charm and shake our fists bicker over whether the ocean still exists and hope whatever mushroom clouds arise on the horizon this time will prove only slyly disguised two-dimensional too but in the meantime oh me oh my how the nuclear families point and smile point and smile when they drive by like they believe their eyes.

~Dylan Krieger