terrorism

black smoke billowed from
burning buildings
and the lazy eye of the morning
begged for another hour
of sleep.

but no alarm clock
can wake us up from this.
from a falling body
trying to miss
the ground.

quick,
tell me why you insist on feeling unlucky.

and while you're at it,
tell me what it's like
to be fucked by gravity,
stuck
three thousand miles in the air
with your cell phone
on speed dial,
dialing 911
and no one's home.

long after the call
goes through,
they will use you
to justify four-plus years
to rush war's fears
down our throats.

it's a hard pill to swallow,
but yet we follow
our president,
the government,
and the little bouncing ball spelling

t - e - r - r - o - r - i - s - m.