Everybody Is Having Bad Sex

Everybody is having bad sex
on the tip of a spoon
at the top of a ship mast
in a sea during a storm
and small stick crises
hold hands in a giant circle
around the burning hull 
of a car shell
in winter.
The snow is ash.
The cold is craving.
Anything orange
is a lie
told by a rubber tree
to a hatchet.