Image of heavy traffic on a highway.

Photo courtesy of Creative Commons

They call it stick ‘cause it sticks;

The gears whine as they grind and twist

Entwined just fine until I try to shift.

Shit. Was that third or fifth

I think as I’m pitched

Hit the wheel with my head

And come up embarrassed

But not dead yet.

Heaving deep breaths to suppress

The existential dread

That makes each drive a guilt trip

(cause each deft press

Is one less fresh breath for my kids,

If I get that far, driving like this).

They call it stick ‘cause it sticks

Around in the air too long for our species to live

Two degrees and rising seas,

A world on the brink and I’m worried

About getting around at a quick enough speed?

Life goes fast enough I think.

Cruising in fifth, going extinct

Dying en mas in the Anthropocene.

Arrogant enough to think

That post-Anthro won’t be what it means.

Arrogant enough to try for sixth

To blow out the motor, make a lever a stick

And seven billion people into corpses.

But humbly we insist

That’s just the way that it is,

We can change the climate

But not the way that we live.

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