At the diner,
the salt shaker
glowed a little.
Nothing much.
Not really noticeable
in daylight.
A radioactive dust
from nuclear testing days
that finally settled
from the upper atmosphere
down to the salt fields
where plastic
snuggle up to
the complex
chloride molecules
that know
the wash
of jet fuel residues
and a little bit
of brimstone
in the form
of sulfur dioxide
rained from
coal burning plants
whose tall chimneys
mark the horizon.

copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney

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