What alignment of the planets
what satellite messages of mysterious origin
led the good people in Downer’s Grove Illinois, at Parkay to this—
A pink squeeze bottle that dispenses a sort of margarine product
so grotesque, so unnatural, so cheerfully pink
that the corner store feels compelled to carry it
complete with a terrifying picture of a waffle
adorned with a pink, cozy smile.

If this is not a sign of the coming apocalypse
what is?

The sign at the art supply store that reads
“Attention model makers:
Balsa wood has become an endangered species.
We will no longer be able to supply this item.
We suggest you build your models with Basswood as an alternative.”

I could say what you expect to hear—the sea levels are rising,
the cities of Australia are experiencing the hottest year on record,
and weather patterns are shifting.
but these details rarely interest me, as they are so
omnipresent as to be mundane.

What scares me are the tiny things:
a Maine lobster named Hercules 20 years old shipped for sale
to a suburban grocery in Port Angeles, Washington.
There, he is rescued by schoolchildren
who raise the 200 dollars to buy him, then ship him
back to Maine where, in the words of the newspaper,
“he likely…succumbed to the trauma of long distance travel,
which is often fatal to lobsters.”

Beth Royer