Habit

Each morning a terrorist leaves
afternoon lunch to suffer an evening
severe with street corner comedy.

He'll never recover from habit. It's
all he has and all the world wants
but can't seem to get. Even explosions

appear in random places, turning
the lights of humanity on and off.
Under the peace that survives each day

there is a constant we call white noise,
and though it's invisible, we pretend to see.

— Douglas Korb