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cc&d (v224) (the September 2011 Issue,



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Osama Bin Laden Wants to Friend Me on Facebook

Nathan Riggs

I swear: I’m not as extreme as I seem.
I’m not even a hardcore communist anymore;
the Soviet posters on my walls
that all seem to say snitches get stitches,
in Cyrillic letters that I can no longer read,
are merely historical reminders of myself.
Yes, the Russian men and women
all hush one another somberly, point guns—
but it’s supposed to be ironic, friend.

I settled down and stepped back
and chose to live a secret American life
after the Patriot Act passed
and my mail would arrive
already opened at my door
(thanks to your merry men)

My carbon footprint creates caverns for you
in my wake, and now I pay my bills on time,
eat meat, celebrate Thanksgiving.
I only feel slightly foolish these days
when I admit to myself that I have crushes.
I even broke down and voted.

I’m just not the revolutionary I used to be;
but yes, I still believe the bourgeoisie should pay
for this infectious fetishism of commodities.
The specter of Marx grins every time I glimpse
at myself in the security mirrors at Walmart
as I choose between Ramen noodle brands,
and I still dream, sometimes, of the day
when the working class will rise again
and wave that red flag high;
but then we still won’t be friends,
because we’ll all be forced, Osama,
to call each other comrade.



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