Society Needs a New Editor
by Stanley M Noah

There are genuine monsters among us,
you know. And barbarians are scaling
our walls of graffiti. Credit cards eating
our blue-plate specials, making us pay
in transparent slavery until death do us
part. Streets and rain have their own
gravity of man-made and natural causes; as
your friends descend forever by avenues. More
poured concrete like lava is slowly transforming
us into more flat-footed urbanites. Our nondiets
really make us fat faster than a bowling ball.
It's a kind of madness, uncontrollable like a
merry-go-round gone amok. And buildings are
becoming taller as if we are walking in a redwood,
glass forest. And there are six point four billion
of us. Soon we shall out number the stars.

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