Cultural ideas spread like dandelions, forget-me-nots,

in the green lawns of corporate America. I’d stare at clouds

rather than memes, but the inside joke of nihilism,

of civilization collapsing, is more funny than a cloud’s inside joke

of rain. It will be another ten years of forest fires, famines,

before we hear the punchline of eco-terrorism overtake nightly

news no one watches. Memes say, watch the dancing baby!

Every one of our houses is on fire.The caption: this is fine.

Now substitute a dog drinking coffee for Noam Chomsky.

Substitute Jason Momoa sneaking up on every damn one of us

for a carriage ride with Death. The American Dream,

once an orgiastic green light, is now a rape kit in the car trunk

of a serial killer. My thoughts cannot be toyed down

to a picture of Kermit the Frog drinking tea,  

to Leonardo DiCaprio raising a glass of champagne.

Maybe the best meme is what light is whispering

to the cherry blossoms making them so horny for bees,

or how every Instagram selfie tasers the word me over and over,

until it smiles. Here is a photo of an otter swimming

with its baby on its lap. Here is condescending

Willy Wonka. Add funny captions. I would add my own,

but I’m too busy turning myself into smoke, into  

a cultural panic attack, into magnolia blooms torn asunder

like beautiful metaphors for living and dying.

Change my mind.