NECA STOLLER
Third Millennium

Again and again the screen shows
the fireworks of each country
lighting their dancing people. Again
and again, each scene zooms in to some
young woman with sparklers in her hand
dancing in the mud, guitar riffs filling her body;
over and over, a prominent, precipitous building,
a mountainous man-made structure to please
us, pacify us to accept the smog
turned grimy powder on everyone's lips,
the city's sunken face and filthy streets.
The fireworks remain; fireworks sparkling
for everyone to see, telling us
simply that we are not in the dark .
We gawk at the rockets, their noise and light,
admire them and from our great-rooms
make them a symbol for the new
millennium as unstable as nitrate.