gasoline rainbows are assaulting to my irises,
they reflect off of hazy days, encapsulating
memories of sunny, wintry days, the snow
creating rainbows of their own;

I see differently through anti-glare glasses,
speeding through streaks of green;
there's a lightness to a vision,
a wisdom that comes with hindsight

did the weatherman foresee a change
in the atmosphere? that carbon dioxide
would become glow-in-the-dark stickers
outlining the accomplishments of the

human race, sucking the oxygen out of
trees, replacing it with their breath,
I foresee a future of chain smokers –
if only they had x-ray vision, they'd

see the people collecting carcinogens
in their lungs, struggling for a breath
of fresh air, it won't be so fresh with
the ultraviolet rays assaulting their irises