Baby’s swallowed the birthday tonic.
The light, evenly distributed
throughout the chamber, shifts
from orange to green back to orange
and warms the insincere hearts resting in rows.
We braved blinding snows
and comfort to be with you this evening.
It was only much later that we paid our dues.
And the timing is wrong somehow,
just ever so slightly,
a strange off-putting rhythm
that leaves its mark in your gut.
Anything but intoxicating.
All signs point to a grating comedown.
-r. miller
*Insert Propaganda Here* 