No more reliable lemon drops in London,
The lemon trees—all gone.
Next will be ginger ale,
The frail root rotted.
The lime trees? Shot.
Some onion-paper men all in a dither
Over freeze-dried pastries preserving
The flavor of sweet cream and butter.
Whoever they are who dig up
Our future cities find feathers
At the museum.
© poem and cover art, 1994
From: Breakfast at the End of Capitalism by Locofo Chaps (Chicago, 2018) — download free PDF here
First published in Poems for a Livable Planet. Fall (1994). p. 3