Climate Change

Climate Change 2

Have you seen pale white skin
Turn gold like a thanksgiving turkey

Tan-happy, the hazel eyed woman,
Sits on a sun chair, looking out

To a stationary sun and the Yucca trees.
The coal ministries are back

Singing halleluiah, the dust bowl
Is buzzing with mossies that are as plastic

As the cacti in Utah, while
Everywhere else in the world, especially

In the cyclone belt, there is californication
Of a climate, opening golden gates

To the furor of the weather gods. While
A little child in a Bangladeshi slum

In his broken English, sings, “rain, rain
Go away”. Mayhem is just a little waterless

Tap in the Australian outback
Where there are no longer billabongs

Only matildas stocking sun creams.

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