poem of the day 07.28.15

the cockroach on my bathroom sink

as a metaphor for the iranian nuclear deal

i can’t draw a literal connection here

or maybe i’m not even speaking in metaphor

mostly i just hope the son-of-a-bitch wasn’t on

my toothbrush or my wife’s toothbrush

i’m not even going to tell her about this menace

morning sex and two hours of poem writing

happily making her tea in the kitchen

she doesn’t need to know about this bug

i guess then it’s kind of like the iranian nuclear deal

my wife not knowing about the cockroach

most of congress talking out of their assholes too

109-page report i doubt most of them have read

i tell the cockroach that he’s a dead man

just as soon as i’m done taking a piss

but that’s mostly hyperbole and posturing

what can i say? i’m a patriot through and through

still i grab a good wad of toilet paper to prove my point

maybe there’s something to that too

i sure as shit wouldn’t want this cockroach weaponized

imagine going toe to toe with something

that could survive a nuclear holocaust

it’s right then and there that i get it

we just don’t want iran to have a nuclear bomb

we don’t seem to want them to have an economy, a chance to survive, either

the united states has approximately 4,800 nuclear warheads

which is 4,8000 too many in my opinion

in truth, i’m more afraid of americans than i am iranians

we’re kind of like the cockroaches of the world

that is to say americans crawl on your toothbrush when you sleep

that is to say we kill civilians by the bunch and call them casualties of war

still, i don’t like the way this cockroach

is casually strolling around my bathroom sink

he’s making me look like an ass on my own little world stage

of course the fucker goes right into a crevice

when i’m all set to wipe him out

typical new yorker, typical american

always getting away with shit

i can see him there in the blackness between sink and wall

those two antennas or whatever they are, twitching

i can’t kill his ass, so i blow with all my might and he drops

take that, kafka, i say. take that iran!

it’s the wrong metaphor but a metaphor all the same

at the very least now i don’t have to change the title of this poem.