Doom Like Those Large Red Lights You Suddenly See In The Overhead Mirror

like Nietzsche
jacking-off into a Miller’s beercan
the door comes
down
it does–

the entire stratosphere
slides like melted and cowardly
butter
and we pray for gods that were not there,
gods that will never be there.

on the darkest stinking rainy night
with all gone,
everything around,
we smell like dead
muskrats…

leap into the car
for beer…

turn on the wipers
and they are
broken…