We’re Sorry We Ate You

We’re Sorry We Ate You



Before all this happened

when I thought about bats

I’d think about:


Bela Lugosi/Dracula

or other movies like: The Bat

Or Dracula’s Daughter

My old Batman comic book collection

and Count Chocula cereal


All those almost nights at dusk in the parks

tossing rocks in the sky

for you to swoop down on


I hit that record breaking home run

back in the days of childhood t-ball

with one of you


You were a specific way in which kittens

liked to treat their toys


Humans in love do you with their eyes


You were just another

old slang term

for the legally deranged


You were only

one goddamn letter

away from being a bath




These thoughts were diplomatic-ly simpler

but your immune system ended up being

so much stronger than memory


and I’ve been locked inside this bunker

for a month now, as your havoc has risen

to the position of invisible poster boys for:


Ventilator scarcity

Eviscerated business-as-usual

And death


What do you want now?

Do you want an apology?


We’re sorry we ate you!


Can you just call this whole shit off?


People are dying and

losing their jobs

and it’s hard to find

baby formula and hope


We’re sorry we ate you

We eat things

It’s something we do


We had no idea you’d take it personally


Ozzy bit your head off when I was a kid

and you didn’t seem to mind that much/ managed

to keep your zoonotic virus bombs behind the gate


In days which were considerably less pandemic

I’ve owned your rubberized versions

Lou Diamond Philips starred in a movie

almost completely devoted to you


You were a Halloween Store staple

back in those days 6 months ago

when humanity still celebrated

stuff like that


“If I run out of toilet paper I’ll go mad.”

my neighbor screamed

at the kid in the Safeway van delivering groceries


We’re all everyone given

only so many sheets

Torn from the rolls

and tormented by the uncertainty:


How many sheets have we got left?


Rationing Wheat Thins

Like they were the old days of summer


Yelling out song orders

to the robot shaped like a 1970’s

King Kong collectable glass that was

only available at participating Burger Chefs

back in the day


because I’m alone

like we’re alone

but that said,


I’ve got a pretty good feeling

I’m gonna get to second base tonight

with my Amazon Alexa


Please don’t cancel me for that


If you can’t be with the one you love/love the one you’re with

As Captain Janek says in Prometheus

paraphrasing Steven Stills

with complete accuracy


A tune I’ve taken to humming sadly before masturbating

A tune which has recently replaced my old stand-bye:

Raining In Baltimore

A tune that I now find myself humming

at least 3 times a day


We’re sorry we ate you!

I don’t even know if you’re delicious


We’re sorry we forsook you

With soy sauce

And made the world burn

Your vengeance right now has left me

shell-shocked and shivering

under this blanket on the couch, playing

What If? with all the houseplants


What if planets are just stolen testicles

Floating in a jar full of universe?


What if we’d skipped eating the bats?


What if, to follow up the 1986 TV event crossover

between Murder, She Wrote and Magnum P.I.

they’d made Murder, She Wrote

meets Gilligan Island, or

Murder, She Wrote meets The Six Million Dollar Man



What if the Six Million Dollar Man

could actually save us from all this?


Six Million bucks?

That’d buy more than a handful

of ventilators


His left arm alone

could fund enough sanitizer

for a small city

or several large towns


(oh shit, how I miss the 1970’s right now)

(ya goddamn bats)

(we’re sorry we ate you)


His penis could pay for enough bagged lunches

To keep an entire County’s school children fed

through the fall

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