Heartbroken over a football game, Autumn

evening, of this kind of thing I’m not ashamed

nor of the twistiness of that diction,

or wanting America to burn

though only certain parts deserve it,

its forests are beautiful and have done

nothing wrong, even the desert’s emptiness

though it terrifies me, is beautiful,

and tacos, and kebabs wrapped up in naan,

and today walking through the park I turned

to see dozens of bright white seagulls flocked

on the windy lake against the blue sky

and I felt an ache and I sent a text

to a friend I said TODAY I SAW FLOCKED

ON THE LAKE WHITE SEAGULLS IT WAS BEAUTIFUL

he wrote FOLLOW THEM it was too late