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gassing you up (love in the time of climate catastrophe)

By Alan Hanson

look at you in the light of an oil lamp

traditional not trad, glowing and glad,

not knowing the tongue can tie one on

with words like chevron or exxon or

whatever, that life that we led is gone.

vroom, fuck!, vroom—

porno breakfast:

men from Detroit

with double martini breath

wiping you out and naming

automobiles after your ancestors.

we’ll tangle hot sweat

dripping pitch slicked ocean,

encroach El Segundo swallows

the home you grew up in

the AC spitting smoke

like foiled heroin.

no more fillies from Florida!

no more hunks from Hermosa!

sheets descending ash

cannot cover the love I have to give

and the love I will accept I will eat sudden

sinkhole gulping down the playgrounds we

tumbled out of splitting our first Silver Bullet

groping in the dark.

and I’ll sing into your chest yes I will buzz your ache, I will

burrow in your bristle as the mountains wilt— for this is

all we’ve ever had and this

they cannot take.

and the Earth will remain,

the mosquitos and cockroaches

learn to breathe methane.

there is no swan, there is no glove,

they too will burn with the Amazon

fulfillment centers

but they will burn

without love.

Alan Hanson is a poet and amateur historian in Los Angeles. He has a cat with thumbs and rarely pays his bills on time. Google "LASD gangs." You can follow him @iluvbutts247 wherever those websites still work.


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