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.