I watch TV so I can love every person
because every person is less intelligent
less beautiful and less important than me

By Ofelia Hunt

The amoebas are happier now that you've cryogenically frozen your brain and buried it carefully in the Marianas Trench with my brain and every other brain  

Where the fish can feed slowly  

On our brains until our brains become one brain  

And finally we can open a Burger-King in space  

Because people are happier now that Burger-King offers discount-card savings  

Instead of coupons  

Which require so much work  

My hands are tired as they remove my brain and trade it with your brain  

Which is the only true act of love I can perform  

Now that I've swiftly decapitated every child  

I could find at Six-Flags  

And pasted their little pasty heads on the classroom bulletin-board in Boise, Idaho  

Do you think we could own a Burger-King in Detroit?  

Without destroying our life-philosophy  

Because you said we can't 'own' anything anymore now that we've abandoned hope for outer-space colonization which you said was the only answer to the 'brain-problem'  

And how brains were happier that year  

When we decided finally to eat people but only the dead people  

Which were useless otherwise and without hope but full of expectations that can't be graphed mathematically or something  

It's winter now and the kittens are happier because we've added brains to the water-supply  

But you don't care because kittens can't talk  

And can only squeal kind of when we chuck them against the wall  

To get the kitten-brains  

And learn from the kitten brains which we line up on our mantel  

The house is happier now that we've defined house-ness philosophically and determined finally that humans don't need houses  

Because we can stack the humans log-like in the yard tomorrow  

After we remove the brains and thinly slice the brains and press the thin brain-slices into flat glass planes for the museum  

Which are happier because we're happier now that the wood-chipper is emptied of the blood that was so difficult to clean  

The wood-chipper makes me love something  

I can't see next year or ever again  

The sheriff's happier now  

His uniform's pressed and the unsolved arson has been solved  

And today the sheriff will stop finally the letter he wanted to write to himself  

About a wood-chipper in San Diego  

Which was happier because San Diego had crumbled slowly into the ocean  

Everything was solved mathematically and the sheriff told somebody  

About the taser he had hidden in the oak tree  

But I found it and tasered myself and it was beautiful

Ofelia Hunt is the author of My eventual bloodless coup (Bear Parade, 2007). Read work in progress at o-hunt.blogspot.com.