She
She reads Gloria Steinheim
and eats slowly her veggie burgers
with carrot sticks on the side.
She says she’d never hurt a cow.
I tell her
I got no beef with that
but she might try
moving to India.
I tell her about
the 1,000s of microorganisms
she kills with each sweet breath
she takes.
She tells me to
go live on the moon.
What can’t be seen - doesn’t count.
Despite her M.A. in Creative Writing
she’s clearly lacking
in imagination.
She’s the perfect Nazi.
A time is coming
when she’ll be able to
breathe in peace.