The next level of destruction came when a truck
rolled over a goose on the Santa Monica freeway.
That poor goose had met its match, and suffered
getting squished and forgotten in about a second.
A subsequent level of destruction arrived shortly
in the form of an invisible imp you would notice
could you see through the veneer of your corona
and acknowledge what a menace it was for us all.
A hideous level of destruction followed those up.
You felt your feet evaporate, hair fry off, people
scurrying helter-skelter as if nuclear winter bode
dourly were you to count the bodies turned dust.