than usual

There is nothing in the air between stones and clouds
Astounded insects praise mumblings of the wind unfit for sustenance
All our bogus ancestors failed in measuring the distance
Between the footprints of the sun and couldn’t recognize
Anything familiar in their shapes
So fuck them with their fire trucks lawn mowers rustling cornfields and buried treasures
There are towns and towns and towns where no one
Has ever seen a $22 bill where no one is
Able to turn a scarecrow even into a golem