the toppled woods were beautiful –

palm needles, car tires, bark and heat.

ash-plumes tickling the armpit

of sky, cloud ribboned like

cassette tape. we found Ozymandias

submerged in a century of polymers,

the gadgetry of bored children –

playstations, waterguns, ancient tvs.

the trash-amphitheatre sprawled like

a city before us. we took tiny breaths,

coughing up treacles as we spoke

bilingual tongues of ghetto and dirt.

later, we lay on sheet-metal counting

space-junk and satellites, and yes,

the toppled woods were beautiful

but we were not crying. acid rain

tiptoed down our faces like falling stars.