Bunker Yacht Spaceship

This beach is not long enough
for what I have to write
in letters that you can
read from space

Elon, I see your caspsule
on nights when the haze lifts,
a dot brighter than most
junk orbiting my planet

I know you survey our
thoughts with cameras
that see through ceilings.
With lasars you sear us

Look in the mirror
at the competition
piercing the ionosphere
picking up momentum

threatening to best you.
Despite a waning fuel needle
you accelerate into space,
direction anywhere ‘cept home

There, alphaman, sits the moon,
yet what’s an ape like you
going to do cadged eternally
in a dusty precapitalist crater?

Ecocide, a crime that thunders
through the universe, allows
for no escape, no cowering
on the dark side of a satellite

Script tangles with jungle,
I have run out of beach;
now get on your knees, Elon,
the dear Lord to beseech

Douglas Smith, formerly a teacher of Anthropology at York University, is a homeopathic physician.and author of several books on alternative medicine. It is claimed (although Dissident Voice has no proof of this!) that Doug and his partner grow the best garlic in Haliburton County. Read other articles by Douglas.