People may dismiss my distrust of Bill Gates as conspiratorial, but wouldn’t I be even more spooky if I were to endorse his projects? This thought inspired the following poem:
THE DAY THE EARTH STOOD STILL
We believe in Bill because he’s right.
We are the plague in ourselves. We are the locusts.
Us. As much as actual locusts are. If a field
Has to lie fallow for a year, so a species
Needs to die back. Pearly Gates is justified
In bequeathing us such inoculation as ensures
That infertility will dog our children,
Which is as it should be, ask Greta,
And she’ll say that’s what Uncle George says too.