dearest son,
your mother and i
we are the ones,
the ones
who feel this love for fire,
who applaud when they run planes into towers,
god, that power,
we laughed when they shot the president
back in '63,
oswald, the mafia, and me,
and when jackie climbed over
the back of the car to grab the pieces of his brain,
god, we howled,
all that blood on her dress,
jackie darling, that's gonna leave a stain,
we vote pro-life
so that when those young girls want abortions,
they'll have to stab up their insides,
there's no more doctors, dearest daughters,
so will it be coat hangers or knives?
and we go to all those parades,
say we hate the jews and the blacks and the gays,
but really, we just like to see them all fucked over
we like to see them writhe
and all those straight christian whites
with no education
saying "thank god for damnation!"
and dearest son,
we're gonna pin it all on you,
take the blame
(it comes with the family name)
and in a decade or two
when everyone hates you
we'll be laughing at you too
because you're a decent man, dear son,
but you won't be able to take it.
no.
not those years and years and years and years
of shame.
3 comments:
this is the singularly most depressing thing that has happened to me all day.
my grammar is bad.
this is really, really, really good.
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