I look past the big face of my computer
At what was once New York
Outside my window
And now is a plateau
Of smiling bra-less
Breasts of the contestants.
It’s time to wake
From this cryogenic sleep
In which I’ve been preserved, and vote.

The endlessness of America ends.
And what an ending.
A second-stage booster rocket ascending
From the one below that’s downward-trending.
Enough protein to get you there—
But not beyond—
Required rebirth
Into another form of life.
Namely, Donald Trump.

I turn the TV off
Which comes back on
All on its own.
It’s all about climate change
And fracking girls.
And every bidet is transgender
Or ought to be.
Trans is the time of day.
Many people these days are Trump or trans or gay.

On Emotion Avenue in Queens—
Near Trouble Street—
Cops on horseback clatter
In their yellow slickers
Through the springtime drizzle
Toward Black Lives Matter.
White working class
Clouds of tear gas
Cloud Emotion.