by Edward Curtin
There are no special cases any more,
All are implicated in the war
That never ended. The reels roll
On in their eternal turnings
Behind our eyes as much as before.
Reality flickers on the shadowy screen
Or what passes for reality whirls by.
No one is sure. No one is unsure.
No one truly knows if he is
Or isn't, only that he expects to watch
The world's end on the evening news.
If asked, no one will tell you that.
If asked, no one will be sure.
In truth, no one will be asked.