I don’t like the world
Where I drive by
Road kill
And do nothing
But avoid spreading it further.
I do not stop and create
A ceremony.
I do my best to ignore
It forget it.

I don’t like this world
For my children
Casual death on display
I try to make sure they are
Horrified or at least
Uncomfortable.

I remember showing
My then-five-year-old
A picture of the Twin Towers
Exploding, a plane in the side
A gush of smoke and fire
And unseen blood.
She said, “Cool.”
No, this is real, I told her.
This happened. It is not a movie.
It is not good
Or cool.
“I know, Mommy.”
I just wanted to make sure
She heard it from me.
But how could she hear it
At all?

I don’t like this influx
Of random stories
Sideboob outrage
Internet vomit
Yet I log on
Every day
It’s an addiction
To nothing
In case something transcendent
Appears in my Facebook feed.

I sign online petitions
Lots of them
I protest rape and homophobia
Nukes toxic waste war fracking
From my easy chair.

I also rage at
Automated answering systems
Press 5
Press zero for an operator
Please go to our website

I totally get that guy
In Maine
Living in the woods for 27 years.
Long winters with his own
Frozen shit
Nobody else’s.
I get it.

But I have opted in.
I want my children to know
Shakespeare
And math
And the scientific method.
I want them to have friends
And be in the world
That I don’t like
Parts of.
Other parts, I admit, are
Nourishing and essential.

So we opt in.

Can we opt out of
Road kill and
Automated answering systems?
Sideboob?
Pretend and real
Apocalypse?

Apparently not.
It’s a package deal.
Purity is not possible.
So we eat the sugar
And the shit.
That’s the deal we’ve made.