What’s not weaponized
Well, the security here is pretty
Good. All the cameras, quaint.
Getting by, they say in unison.
Also, the spectre of what's still real,
warmed in the pre-glow of Gomorrah.
Until the memories are scrubbed clean.
And the sun is certainly breathing
down your neck. I’d say it's a signal.
These are storied times fit for trumpets.
The fires, they spread like butter.