The Threat
I am not looking for your jugular.
Only for your eyes.
This isn’t exactly accurate.
I want both. And if you ask, as you should
if you like yourself, why do I go for such
ferocious treats, I must
admit
that there is something unexploded in my gut.
And it wants you because there is
an unexploded something in yours too.
A music box we swallowed when we were children?
The growing up? Which is
learning to handle terror?
Was there something in the food or is
the government responsible for it?
It’s nothing I can stick my knife into and say:
“For sure it’s this!”
And yet I want it out more than I want these words
Andrei Codrescu
