“What’re you gonna do this afternoon
Marv?” “Well, Sam, I’m seventy-five; I think
I’ve done enough. Besides, we are all doomed—
Chum for predators, gaping maws that stink
Of oil, of pharmaceuticals, of god–
And most of all they stink of righteousness.”
“But Marv, your principles, your anger? Odd
That you’d surrender them, not act, confess
Dispirited despair. Do something man!”
“Well Sam, there might be one thing left to do.
Perhaps I’ll huff and puff and try to fan
Alive the ashy embers of some truth.
Then, enflamed, scorched by moral passion,
Discover destiny as an assassin.
(10/14/05)