How likely is it that the fellas who have
moved onto a place down the loop, who
are bricking their crossover, are named
Comatos and Lacon? That they have
brought a small herd of goats with them,
and play guitars outside their house-shed
as the summer sun is setting purple on the hills?
If I say, It’s entirely true! will you believe
that they are more than mythology,
that the sweat they drop onto the hillside
will erupt into an army of teeth-gnashers,
that they will join ranks and roll into
the brook and down into the river
and on to the sea? That oceans will rise
because of them? And what if I add,
It’s in your best interest to believe
because this is the only reality left
to us, that even up here with great
plains spreading below us, oceans
of tears will soon be lapping at our feet,
and the goats will bleat their warning.