Post #3498279

#proletarian #poetry A Cockroach Walks into a Bar by Steven Bruce A cockroach walks into a bar lit by a chandelier of dog teeth. The bartender, a fat roach with one eye, pulls him a pint. On the television, a man in a suit signs a paper that means bombs for children. The roach watches in silence. Jesus, one mutters, How do they always find new ways to destroy themselves? The roach sips his beer from a rusted thimble, thinking of the time he saw a man kick a dog for begging. Call us vermin, the bartender says, but we don’t poison the rivers. We don’t bury children in rubble. The bartender changes channels wipes his mandibles, and says, Soon, they’ll wipe themselves out. And when the last man dies with a flag in his mouth and a banknote in each fist, we’ll crawl out into the silence and have our day.