Too Bad

The sun is suffering from dementia.

Sad old broad.
We found her in the poorhouse, air-conditioning
on high, hiding her face because she could not
recognize it.

This was upsetting, of course, to all of us. We looked in the fridge for something
to eat.

Just onions hugging other onions.
We are accustomed to certain things.

Call the ambulance, she said.

The apples are crawling up the wall.