FISHY BUSINESS IN HEAVEN & CAPE COD

Nobody cares when it floods in Cape Cod, when the rains crash for seventeen hours, Sea-level rise promises to be a strong alibi, but I know God's handy-work when I see it. I see you—hiding behind the clouds, smirking spouts with your false rainbow mouth. I know you waited for me to leave, to dash my trip to Miami against the rocks of my anxiety, So that every gallery painting would betray my helpless plight in blues and greys and black, So that these sunny days and palm trees could enjoy a hearty laugh behind my back... Did you gift a darling favorite a tip to build an ark? Foot the lumber bill? With my taxes? Did the contract just happen to go to your friend's crony company? I know how you move.. Who was afforded a spot? The bastard harbormaster that sits on his hands? His boat? The sloths in the municipal government? With their assuaging platitudes, their blind-mocking smiles? I must be some sinner that this is my lot.. Does Noah know you broke your promise with 11 ft waves? Was it the name of my boat? Did you hate "Fishy Business" that much? Why didn't you say something—you BABY! But you didn't have to take it out on my dingy "The Doctopuss is innocent, you MONSTER! I'm flying back tomorrow, and when I get there, there's gonna be hell to pay so you better clear it! And I swear to GO...AH GOD DAMN IT—if I see a bunch of your chosen BUMS having an ark party with champagne— I swear on the Doctopuss, you're going to really learn what it means for a disaster to be BIBLICAL!!! ....Amen.