Nuclear submarines are just fine

You’re playing happy grab-ass in the atomic shower,
singng in the nuclear rain,
while the planet heats up like a pressure cooker.
 
If western woman is going to save the world,
like Dalai Lama says,
it’s going to be one hell of a lap dance.
 
You do your ecstatic little dance
to computer-generated beats,
resets your motor cortices like cyborg implants;
distracts you so you don’t notice
guided missile frigates sailing in and out of the Bay
in and out through a swarm of jet turbine helicopters
and gray boats bristling with radar and machine guns,
while laser cannons look down
from what used to be the heavens
(or hills above Tijuana)
that could light this place up like Elron Hubbard’s birthday party
at Burning Man.
 
Never mind me, I’m crazy.
Nuclear submarines are just fine.
like Dalai Lama says,
it’s going to be one hell of a lap dance.

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