Let’s have toast
while the world ends.
Let’s argue harmlessly whether
this coffee shop is a church,
whether our barista is a pastor.
Let’s have tea in the sun
as a handful of corporations
spring from their garages
to possess us a little more.
Let’s dance in the discomfort
that our data is worth more
than our names.
Let’s listen to men with podcasts
tell us life is about success
and success is living
more like them.
Let’s spend twenty years
learning the difference
between love and attention
and then forget
right when it matters.
Let’s discuss the pros
and cons of being martyred
while we’re immolated
in our hometowns.
Let’s try to forget
it’s our extended family
governing those hometowns.
Let’s paint ourselves
orange to match the sky
as we disentegrate
and wait for a cure.
Let’s medicate with coffee
and pretend the anxiety
was inevitable.
Let’s whisper exit plans
and share the fantasy
that running might help.
Let’s debate whether our
fingernails will regrow
before we die.
Let’s perform every ritual
we can invent to consecrate
the afternoon.
But first, let me
take you to lunch.