Tuesday, July 28, 2015

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.                     

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