She leans against the counter, and buffs her nails.
“I guess it would be bad, but I don’t care.”
We speak of Marx and my persuasion fails
to illustrate not just how we would fare
in such a world, should it become our lot,
but that a human being should take a stand.
“I guess like it would be like bad.” Her thoughts
like made my brain like melt. So understand
why I resigned! –Her passive passions burned
with all the flame of Easy Bake. It’s she
who’s doomed us – not the quake of coup de tat,
or wicked plots, or brightly burning trees.
It’s those whose furies run lukewarm
and gladly live their lives chloroformed.