by Adam Robinson
If you are listening to this,
something has gone terribly wrong.
The dog is barking at the vacuum.
The milk has gone off
with the car alarm in the street.
I have 36 emails to reply to
but I’m only barking at the void.
Bacon costs like six dollars, and
it still seems like reality TV is
actually going to be a thing.
Soon the black flies will be back.
They’ll cover the window.
Is there a moral explanation
for my great incapacity
to feel even worse?