This morning on the toilet
I daydreamed about the Godzilla of Peace.
He comes out of the ocean
fifty-five stories tall,
blue and fluffy with a party hat
and sunglasses and a Hawaiian shirt.
At first the city people are afraid of the
deep rumbling he makes as he goes along.
But he seems nice, so they relent.
He goes around distributing soft serve ice cream cones
with a hundred thousand arms. With another
hundred thousand, he picks up all the nasty people
and puts them on the Rehumanization Island with Bob Marley music.
He gives away unfathomable amounts of food, water, money, and requisites
with another hundred thousand arms.
His invincible fluffiness heals the network.
He is the incarnation of Peace through Peace.
But along the way, he runs into someone who can’t stop screaming.
He offers ice cream, requisites, a hug, a nice island to live on,
and anything else he can procure, but she won’t relent.
And finally, sitting down to ponder the situation,
he remarks, “Why can’t Peace be just as massive
as this Godzilla of Death you’re addicted to?”