you will have to come down this accursed road
walk in the fumes and mist with gloomy feet
pass by this marvelous man made reservoir
banked by the road of a sickly crescent moon
and sit and rest on this deserted dilapidated bench
drenched by the excreta of the common black crow
you will have to turn beetroot red with guilt

at towns overwhelmed with your pregnant water
that turns comic cartwheels to my lazy command
and occasionally generates five hundred megawatts
for a national grid to empower new mega malls
multiplexes and dance halls and the internet
and assorted migrant daily help in your metro cities
we will wickedly rape under baptized halogen lamps
and professional tramps will litter your Viagra
infused lawns

your bolts of lightning will incinerate my oldest pine
tree
a trillion unbelievable volts will blind momentarily
and you will have to roar your eternal impotence
at a cloud bank that went up in the blue cigarette
smoke
of a poet making multiple submissions on the internet
your skid proof pavement near the confluence
will bear witness to the decadent affluence of he
whom you have passed by in your grand largesse
for engineers who take bribes
people with tertiary day jobs
horrible home loans to repay
people who shop carelessly at malls

after I have acquired my better car and bigger house
I will turn around and ask you why
you didn’t phone me
I could have driven up