Sunday, March 25, 2007

#335: March 24, 2007

Down in my secret lair, bathed in the lights
of databanks that mark these final hours,
imagining my doomsday satellites
that ring the planet like a crown of flowers,

With squads of henchmen ready to command
who at my word will terrorize and kill,
and every government in every land
moments away from crumbling to my will,

I think of how my grandma said to me,
"Though life is long, its greatnesses are few;
and of all men, most fortunate is he
who dreamed and did just what he hoped to do."

The countdown starts, the crypto-failsafes buzz--
and I can't help but think how right she was.

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