There is only Faygo. No milk, no beer, no liquor has graced us in decades. There is only the artificial taste of Faygo. No one even likes it. You take a drink.

A small child tries to fold a paper airplane. He looks down and is upset to see a Ford truck, folded perfectly. It is an F-150. He tries to make an airplane again. This time he folds a Model T. He begins to cry.

“The water is clean!” Cries Flint mayor Dayne Walling. Brown water with sediment still flows from our taps. “The Flint River isn’t polluted anymore!” He insists nervously. Beads of sweat form on his brow. He clutches a bottle of Evian water in his sweaty hand.

The potholes move and grow at night, they consume cars and children alike. My father had to drive to Detroit last week. ‘Beware of the potholes,’ I warned him. I haven’t seen him since.

The sirens are tested every first Saturday of the month. You hear the sirens, but realize its only Friday. Its not the sirens, but children screaming instead.

The Detroit Red Wings never stop playing. There is a game every night. This has been going on for years and the players miss their families. Please let the Red Wings rest.

A body is pulled from the Flint River one hazy morning. The distant sound of Dayne Walling can be heard over the wind, “The water is clean!” He cries. The body resembles you.