Monday, August 30, 2010

Local Thermonuclear War

To marry is to enter
a state
of mutually-assured-destruction
not unlike the dynamic tension
that balanced the world
in the sixties, between
the late, great USSR
and the latter-day-saint
America.

Somehow the arsenals expanded
every wrong word
each slipped date
adding nuclear-tipped referents
with multiple-reentry-insults
making delivery vehicles out of
your expressions
the way you breathe
and, worst of all
your words.

Until a minor misunderstanding
escalates
and the red phone is dead
and you panic
and turn the keys
and push the button
and there it goes.

Maybe you regret the launch immediately,
but you've fired
and you'll be fired upon
with the furious exchange
wiping out major cities of friendship
and forcing the feelings that remain
to eat Spam underground for a while
and hope the nuclear winter thaws
before they all die.

So speak softly
and abandon your big stick.

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