Andromeda is rushing toward us
Like an assassin’s bullet
And will wrench into fragments
Any thoughts of how it used to be
On the roller coaster, say, by the sea
Looking out at waves coming in
At only a fraction of the speed.
We have been warned by
Pestering meteors, comets,
And our pock-marked moon,
But looking out we can’t see
Them with our naked eye,
The pathological damage,
And so believe in a peace
That in our time shall prevail
A wonderful mystical state,
And though it has never been
It is our belief – even though
Someone this very instant is planting
An IED for our unsuspecting feet:
And will spin them off in flashes of light.
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