One ponders the untenable, immersed in it,
And moving toward it, hurtling through
The air upon a path of deadly hydrocarbons
Toward a searing city running out of water
Day by day.  They'll have to have this valley
Empty or all those within will die.  They'll
Have to turn from hydrocarbons, leaving oil
In the ground, if they don't want the world
Aflame.  The trips, the overpriced amusements,
How we shuttle foods and goods from where
They're made to where they're stored, to households
Which have purchased them, are wasteful.
We were warned they were.  Now we understand
That they've become untenable.