Psy & Co.

My Tom Sawyer
misses Becky
and Huck
Sters
run
the world
on benches
made of all our
buffalo billed backs,
with the rudder tied set to Greenland,
so we can have ice in our last drinks,
and watch the ocean, restake claim.
No more gulf stream feed, no more
circles of life, no more curly cues.
No, there I don't go again; I know
we're already there
not knowing,
but we will,
and will
won't
save
us.