I.
Listen—
if you stand on the edge of the abyss and look down
the skulls grin back out of the black
black depths of oblivion as if to say
here we are look where it’s
oh-so-much-better
but here on earth watching we too have

II.
nirvana
(thirty-seven fifty per month)
but for one low price peace
can be accessed weeknights primetime seven
to midnight although
if you walk away by ten o’clock you might
get out with only ten bills in the jacket pocket of the
concierge—but whatever you do
DON’T watch the

III.
news.
In this country a man can
pay for the Privilege—look, you can talk about the innocence
of a child’s smile but you can get the same on any streetcorner—
and in this country a man can
carry a gun in his pocket and
Every. Single. Time.
his son kills someone with it
we’re just as shocked as yesterday
because we’re not WE ARE NOT
the kind of people who can get used to violence
(we hold these truths to be self-evident)
we can’t learn from our

IV.
mistakes.
The man on the street always said
it was better in the sixties
(but it was just the nostalgia talking)
high off the smoke from the guns in Vietnam
we all fed off adversity-
and he doesn’t talk about the days before
marijuana was a Schedule I drug (better to kill yourself
with morphine if you’ve got it)
so good morning ma’am, what’s your

V.
pleasure?
These days,
they cover the bodies with flags and if we
can’t find your son, mister,
don’t worry, because you’ll still get
this nice shiny new banner but
don’t—trust me, don’t unfold
it because you don’t want
to see what’s on the other side.
Facing up is the sticker that tells you we
got it specially for you—made in China—we brought it
all the way down the Silk Road so just you keep it safe.
We built you a wall, mister
so just you be a good

VI.
neighbor.
Oh yes, I’ve got an exit
strategy, he said. I had it
last night on the way home—it was here a minute ago,
forget my own head next,
look, just check in the bunker, would you, I
might have left it there. Hey, just

VII.
Listen—
if you stand on the edge of the abyss and look down
you can see the water stirring under white
ash and look up! look up!—night’s on the way in, smog rising from
the factories massproducing your own personal nuclear
winter (beware the mushroom cloud of mass delusion)
right here right now because you’ll never get another

VIII.
chance.
Selfevident—you can save a man from everything
except himself.