Albedo

Our city is collapsing. The newspapers say it is because we are having too much sex. The reality TV shows say it is because we are spending too much time in libraries. My mother was a carpenter. My father was a surgeon. They met on a boat whose belly was full of turtles. I live in a tent on a pair of stilts. Rainwater tastes like batteries. If our city collapses, I will find a belly full of turtles to sail to Hawaii and eat a coconut for every meal. Sometimes I lick pennies because they taste like skittles. If our city collapses I will find a piece of lace and tie it around my head like a bandanna. I will be prince of the alleyway and win every soccer match. Once I had a little brother. He followed me everywhere until he shriveled into a turnip. Then I ate him. I eat most of my friends. Sometimes the rain eats through my tent-cover and then I open my mouth to swallow it all because otherwise I am thirsty. Once I had a dream that I was a water moccasin and I bit God. Once I had a dream that I was a sea lion and spoke human. Once I had a dream that I rode my bike across Antarctica and fell into a gully. Once I went to school but the sun dried up the picnic tables. Nowhere to hide. Once I read a magazine. Once I learned that a nightmare would be president. Once I learned that apartheid is a string bean. If our city collapses I will build a vessel of cardboard and sail it to meet the last polar bear. If our city collapses I will stomp in a bucket of grapes and drink some wine even if it tastes like feet. Once I had a dream that everyone played cricket. If our city collapses I will build a paper airplane vending machine. It will be the only way to travel and it will cost you fifty cents.