The problem is that our territory keeps
growing. North grows south.
Skin stretches over ocean.
Where did all these miles come from?
Ever since we dropped Fat Man
on Nagasaki. Now we say
“obesity epidemic.” Still, a spoonful
of sugar helps the empire go
down. How about some Rocky Road
and Zoloft? Watch Finding Nemo
again to numb the fear of being
relocated across the planet?
Side effects may include dizziness
and nausea. Occasional loss
of ability to ignore the loss
of someone else’s mother tongue or
half their face. Plus, we’ve lost
our keys, and logic doesn’t find them.
Some places are so obvious
we can’t get there. In a jacket pocket
on our dozing body in an airplane
at ten thousand feet. Thank God
for imperial measurement.
To be more useful, maps may be
deliberately inaccurate. Maps use
scale to consume more inches
of the earth. Borders are useful
for circulating blood back to the heart
or spilling it on breaking news.
Thank God for helping us clean up
the mess. Let’s put our hands
together and pray like hell we’re not
sent on another secret mission.
The king will see us now, but
never look him in the eye.
Some things the king should never
be told. Like the story about how
God lays an egg. Or the world is
an egg, and we’re getting hungrier.
Or we’re playing egg toss,
taking another step back each time
we catch the egg. In theory,
we keep expanding the empire
until the egg breaks.