urban dog
09-13-2007, 03:05 AM
THEY THOUGHT
They thought of drilling in the Arctic Wildlife Refuge soon;
They thought that cars should guzzle gas; they thought themselves immune
To all manmade pollution. It had simply never dawned
On them that they could put this orb completely out of tune.
They fancied they could drive their SUV across the pond,
For they thought they saw a towering mound of yellow gold beyond;
As massive as a mountain, it stood beckoning to them.
Of riches they were greedy and of flaky plans were fond.
The pond was frozen (so it seemed). Their scheme, their stratagem,
For reaching that great gleaming thing, that giant shiny gem
That glittered in the winter sun beyond that lake of glass,
Was from the start quite flawed. They deemed that mammoth jewel the créme,
The champion, the sans pareil, the jewel of jewels! That mass
Of gold, however, was a fake (and the “pond” was a morass,
A bog). Yet they were so intent to get to it as swift
As light, they overlooked a detail plain as purple grass:
The sign that said, “THIN ICE!” These folks believed that gold a gift.
So, instead of going round the “pond,” they raced like a hound who’d sniffed
A hot dog or a hare and drove straight toward that fat illusion.
Atop the deepest part, just as they were about to shift
Into a higher gear, the ice gave way, and their delusion
Fast faded like a flower in the cold. There was confusion
As the SUV sank like a cannonball would in the sea.
The water, chill enough to numb the noise of man’s intrusion
On every habitat on Earth, rushed in just as a bee
Would fly into its hive. They drowned like fruit flies in hot tea,
Or like the Earth might drown in heat when greenhouse gasses choke
This sphere with noxious smog. Then all of life would have to flee
To another solar system, for the creatures here would croak.
Some handshakers don’t care if the whole globe goes up in smoke,
Or if there’s no more ice left at the poles, or if the yolk
We orbit heats the air so much we’re stricken with heatstroke!
Copyright © 2007 by Martin Elster.
All Rights Reserved.
They thought of drilling in the Arctic Wildlife Refuge soon;
They thought that cars should guzzle gas; they thought themselves immune
To all manmade pollution. It had simply never dawned
On them that they could put this orb completely out of tune.
They fancied they could drive their SUV across the pond,
For they thought they saw a towering mound of yellow gold beyond;
As massive as a mountain, it stood beckoning to them.
Of riches they were greedy and of flaky plans were fond.
The pond was frozen (so it seemed). Their scheme, their stratagem,
For reaching that great gleaming thing, that giant shiny gem
That glittered in the winter sun beyond that lake of glass,
Was from the start quite flawed. They deemed that mammoth jewel the créme,
The champion, the sans pareil, the jewel of jewels! That mass
Of gold, however, was a fake (and the “pond” was a morass,
A bog). Yet they were so intent to get to it as swift
As light, they overlooked a detail plain as purple grass:
The sign that said, “THIN ICE!” These folks believed that gold a gift.
So, instead of going round the “pond,” they raced like a hound who’d sniffed
A hot dog or a hare and drove straight toward that fat illusion.
Atop the deepest part, just as they were about to shift
Into a higher gear, the ice gave way, and their delusion
Fast faded like a flower in the cold. There was confusion
As the SUV sank like a cannonball would in the sea.
The water, chill enough to numb the noise of man’s intrusion
On every habitat on Earth, rushed in just as a bee
Would fly into its hive. They drowned like fruit flies in hot tea,
Or like the Earth might drown in heat when greenhouse gasses choke
This sphere with noxious smog. Then all of life would have to flee
To another solar system, for the creatures here would croak.
Some handshakers don’t care if the whole globe goes up in smoke,
Or if there’s no more ice left at the poles, or if the yolk
We orbit heats the air so much we’re stricken with heatstroke!
Copyright © 2007 by Martin Elster.
All Rights Reserved.