A Speculative Fiction

A new iron curtain drawn across the 49th parallel.

Cut all diplomatic ties as we expel

All American dignitaries,

And issue a nation-wide travel advisory for any others left inside.

Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

The burned out shells of south-bound traffic lay strewn across a cold

Stretch of would-be interstate.

Still visible below

Below their charred remains:

Pax Americana plates.

Your stupid fucking laser-pucks were just the start.

And while you may stand six full cubits and a span,

A shepard's sling and five stones in our hand

And the battle of 1812 lives in our heart.

We don't care if we're destroyed.

We'll never capitulate.

We'll take the whole fucking world down,

Down with us in flames.

Just a speculative fiction.

No cause for alarm.

We got a good 15 years left

Till the United We Stand

Murals on West Broadway finally fade

And we wave good-bye to such sad, childish refrains.

Exchanged for other stupid lullabies

Like "you can have my guns when you pry

Them from my cold dead hands".

Just a speculative fiction.