David c. Kopaska-Merkel
Letter from a Red-Shifted Star
You flew so high that you flew into time,
Like a fly caught in slow glass,
You may emerge someday when the sun is cold,
And I am dead or transformed, and no longer in love with you;
Something we will have in common, finally.
And the Velvet Underground, in Dallas,
Football fans all, chagrined at a lopsided game,
Sang about sex, drugs, major surgery, and rock-and-roll.
Their dangerous music,
Which led many children to ruin,
Hardly seems different from Perry Como to kids today.
I don’t even like your dog,
Which I will be walking twice a day,
Until the stupid thing dies.
I couldn’t kill it, though I tried.
Damn right I sold the antique DVDs, china,
And all the house plants;
The 3D never needs to be watered.
I will keep the old CDs though,
All those that work; you didn’t even like Frank Zappa
But I dig his quaint attempts to shock.
The things they thought outrageous a century ago!
Listen closely, here’s my bullet:
I never needed you.
David Kopaska-Merkel grew up in what was once the largest state, Virginia, which for a while stretched all the way to the Pacific Ocean. He now describes rocks in the city where the dentist is king, and has made that joke way too many times. David lives with a spouse, a child, five small furry things, and innumerable hangers-on too small to see with the naked eye.
Art Director: Bonnie Brunish