Everybody Had Coup Flu

          Everybody Had Coup Flu

          To Mikhail Gorbachev

 

 

I learned a lot that week.

I learned how to hold my breath for three whole days.

I learned how to pray without belief.

“O God,” I’d whisper,

“I don’t know if you exist or not

and normally I wouldn’t bother you

even if you did

but this is important

so if you do exist, then please, dear God,

let there be liberty!”

I learned how to read minds by consulting my own.

I’d walk up to strangers and ask, “What do you think?”

and they knew what I meant because they too had coup flu.

Everybody had coup flu.

For three whole days the world watched

the past and the future play chess.

We hovered, suspended, over the abyss.

We looked down and saw ourselves

already there in the flaming pit

burning, fighting, dying, weeping

our nightmares plain and clear to see

and yet we did not fall; we flew.

We had no time to be afraid;

we had just long enough to bid hope good-bye

(just in case)

when suddenly the crisis was over.

The coup had fallen

the repression was repressed

the failure had failed

the negation was negated

the deaths had died

and we were alive again.

For it wasn’t just the Russians

who doubly blundered into grace;

everyone grew stronger by surviving the attack.

When the crowd toppled the spy’s huge statue

it wasn’t just their iron idol that fell.

It wasn’t even that we finally did things right;

we’re human, we never do anything right;

it’s just that we finally did things wrong right.

Days later, while driving home

under the influence of the full moon

I was still grinning, still laughing

and not at anything in particular.

The attendant at the toll plaza

had headphones on, and was dancing.