How are your check bones under the

layers of flesh on your face?

Does it hurt when you smile?

My generation last vestige of

the Cold War, bomb drill and the

Red Menace, right

watching live via satellite the utter

collapse of what on paper was Soviet might.

I was promised a world without war

Pax Americana victorious.

Revolutions in science and technology,

navy bases closing, airfields shut down.

Nukes disarmed and defanged, dangling

like post-orgasm cocks – that special glow

knowing that the mission was won without

a firefight (just U2 overflights)

One and done, walking into the sunset.

Have you seen documentaries about World War I?

How men were machine gun fodder, bodies thrown

out on the front so new rules of war could be drawn up?

Total war. Total destruction.

My generation gets to think tank better ways to kill by

remote control. Progress in peacetime.

Our future is introverted

spun freely off of the three ton line

of Orwell’s 1984 –

the past a malleable production of paper scraps,

digitized microfilm, and mashed-up multi-glottal speechmaking

gerrymandering, wholehearted pandering.

This is the wonder of now!

Gone is the sweet smell of bacon making khaki suited

under 40 veterans question why children

flash in their eyes during a Wendy’s lunchtime

burger feed. That’s it, right there – the smell you need

is human under the green glow of night vision phosphorus.

From human meat roasting after flashbomb firefights,

burnt hair tinge with that sizzle on the streets of

Hiroshima, summer 1945;

to the delights of an air-conditioned bunker in

Afghanistan as a drone drills a neighborhood

for bloodless thrills. You’re still smiling?

Goddamn this is progress!

Goddamn the American dream is manifest!

Arcadian utopia to arcade buttonmashing,

we have arrived!