There is only one behavior which triumphs.
It begins with unemotional poetry
which becomes habitual in the questioner.
The goal is simple. Do things faster.
Destinations are laid out for us in their green innocence,
but like traditions artful and encoded,
end up as the imaginary past.
Now the space engines are big.
Boy, that happened fast.
Obnoxious speech, faced with noise, doesn’t know
what it’s talking about.
The Union crushed the whip and sweat of the South.
This world never liked you. Get out.