Ambushed

Tired too

of the nonsense now

of so called civilization

“is dis a civilization?” when 

Monday Night Football is all

you can be pretty sure of.

Fuck God…

pretty sure I’m the first 

to put that in a poem…

now you’ve been ambushed.

Time’s Square, NYC, 1953

you can’t see the space

because of the buildings…

you can’t see the buildings

because of the advertisements.

Ambushed over time

by layers of an onion

complex, 

without meaning,

Tinsel covered Xmas tree in the trash…

ambushed by empty boxes, torn ribbons,

emptiness that everything you know is wrong.