These Busted Days

Does any of this matter? Was I nuts
To think the world was ready for this crime?
Was it important that one missing dime
Should halt proceedings? If a thousand cuts
Did not result in death, and homeless mutts
Won prizes at the dog show, was it time
To publish details of our ruinous climb
Which took us to the tops of toxic huts?

All hail the unexpected shout of mirth,
The inhospitable hospice design,
The mighty puzzled oak, the knotty pine,
And all the friendless moles that dig the earth.
I can't be sure what anything is worth,
These busted days, these evenings without wine.