Copping a feel, a vile 2013ager
who regretfully survived the apocalypse
with a perennial All Years’ Resolution:
Take, Dominate, Coerce, Humiliate.
Even my distant autistic cousin
with a history of violence
will stop touching if you ask;
he lacks that special sane disorder to disregard
will, humanity, stop signals, hurt,
for to forge an abhorrent concrete
atop any wild yearning grasses
that enliven, color and dance upon Earth.
One who triumphs in vanquishing
has celebrated historical pomp to rest on,
long venal veni-vidi-vici venae cavae
pumping into sick infarcted hearts
which drumbeat out the deluded
patriotic pulse of personal freedoms
conflated with callous exploits
perpetrated by the bloodlust class,
so I suppose no surprise that those with poison
arsenals of primitive weaponry
exact a terror on the open in the Underground
that we typically reserve for radar screens.
But recourse to analog or metaphor
does not degrade or downplay the act;
au contraire, it’s worse when recognized
as vaunted time-old tradition
that hits my family and me
with the same violence and force
as the abstract unpleasantness
I had previously only imagined.