Staying up late

reading Shirley Jackson until I can’t see straight

do you believe in climate change?

that’s kind of deranged,

you can’t believe in something that’s real.

My publisher says, yeah you’re great,

as he savors the gourmet lunch he ate,

paid for with the profit he’s made off my dreams.

Quarantine agoraphobia the newest craze,

for want of turning a phrase,

selling my soul to the devil,

do you believe in such drivel?

You can’t believe in something that’s real.

You can’t believe in something that’s not,

things are getting hot,

by the light of the silvery moon

silver spoon,

hold it up,

drink the cup,

swallow the pill,

make you ill,

farther still.

The road to hell is paved with adverbs,

quickly, silently, he stealthily moved,

comprehending nothing, extremely

well.

The road to hell.

Shirley knows.