It’s always Godzilla.
The headlines read:
GODZILLA CRUSHES TOKYO!
or
GODZILLA KILLS MOTHRA!
Like I said, ‘It’s always Godzilla.’
Why not a stealthy, little (by comparison) raptor
in a Zen garden,
bathed in moonlight?
The cones in your retina are useless:
your rods pick up a slightest of movements.
Jasmine, cherry blossoms,
and the coppery-smell (and taste) of — human blood.
