IDIOT
IDIOT WIND
..eyes dead and sightless crouching there pale and naked
The brain that pulsed in a dull glass bell. It swung its head
from side to side gave out a low moan turned and lurched
away.. (Cormac McCarthy The Road)
Post apocalyptic treatise The creature reminiscent of the orange
beast currently terrorizing the world Finger on a VERY BIG button
Bigger than that of the stout buffoon with a mushroom cut He who has
his sites set on California Then make your way east! Insane young man
It finally seems possible in our lifetime The much vaunted apocalypse
Set in motion by an idiot-stand-in: for a president for a God
Times like these stir up memories of simpler times? When we huddled
under our desks at school +an alarm sounded in the hall Drills for some
distant apocalypse Not yet the teenaged gunmen with weapons of mass
destruction picking off students like bobbing apples in a barrel Heads
exploding willy-nilly
Or a most perfect day from your childhood One you’ll want to savour as
the button kings continue their pissing contest Both of small mind +absent
soul 1965 parents out Old grandfather in front of tv watching wrestling
+wrestling with invisible men In a vinyl+metal rocking chair purchased for
his yearly visit Until emphysema claims him in a sanitarium Sainte-Agathe-
des-Monts But first a family trip to visit him
Your father bridles at the uncut pizza tears it apart with his hands +declares:
Dumbest bastards God ever created A cousin who wasn’t thought especially
swift but in reality his brilliance rivalled that of Heidegger intoned his own
version of: beings unto death When in a Montreal singsong he pointed at us
children like a balding Jewish reaper: You’re gonna die +you’re gonna die
We’re all gonna die!
45 yrs. later he is still alive Your father not so lucky nor the cousin’s only son
Who perished slowly from a strange Legionniares’ like disease During his
protracted illness his wife would call our mother quite high on her declining
husband’s medical marijuana: I hate him like poison she’d say One supposes him
to be in a better place than the one where we contemplate a crossing Over stinking
scablands Once the button boys have their way
__
WINTER 2018
songanddancegirl 