48° North
Bisecting my Inner Mongolia, my Automomous Oblast
Bypassing the Post with tinned meat and fruit, now label-less, and spiral scrapbooks full
of DIY porn
Broadfall buttons for relief or access (depending on interest)
Woolen tops and bottoms, but salt-cured within, rashered beyond the scope of damp and cold,
and, well, porn
Fire & Rescue welcomes you
and the stuff that accompanies you
and those preceding you
and those not yet on the way to you
124° West
My unclaimed territory, my plastic floats
Scrawled with indelible entries, ingredients, backup routes, and maritime law
But sadly there are no surface roads anywhere for the first responders
or Amazon Prime
I hacked a tincan flue through the roof, but it just backdrafts diesel fumes
and you can’t even read by its light
Fire & Rescue still welcomes you
and the crap that accompanies you,
as for those not yet on the way to you, they are still mostly unaware
they ever missed you