like a hundred knuckles cracking

there is a storm blowing in.
we have no panes on the windows, no bolt in the door.
dear potential natural disaster,
our home is your home.
or something.

i am eating apple rings after a long hot day
on the set of this old house.
my ears are burned and my sunglasses have paint all over them.

i am thinking apocalyptic thoughts.
smashing the fly on my ceiling.
double beds.
whether people on ferries might be more or less safe during an earthquake.
whether people on planes would even notice.
are there people who live on planes?

you know,
sometimes i wonder if airplane hotels are feasible.
like cruise ships. only more expensive and with more tourist destinations.
around the world in eighty days style.
our favorite poet of the skies could be the evening entertainment.

yes. apocalyptic thoughts.