Science Fiction

Rockaway boardwalk, 1903, via Wikipedia, digital record

Peaceful violence and violent peace

were names of two new drinks on the boardwalk

and we watched from the dry bar of sand far

out in the bay as our friends took one each.

Peaceful violence was redder than toe-

mate-O juice formed by crushing the ripest

feet in shoes with no room for growth, squeezing

lemon juice on them and serving on ice.

Violent peace was clear of blood, but full

of the seeds of pomegranates preserved

in tequila swarming with full-grown worms

screaming eat me, eat me until some did.

You said Peace-Vi was safer than Vi-Peace

because it had no alcohol in it

but I think it is better to be drunk

than to be cannibals enjoying blood.

And we wondered if Peaceful Peace could be

and if the bar also served Violent Violence

thinking the first would be lemon and ice

with pomegranate juice and the second—

Violent Violence—would be a tincture

of toe meat mixed with writhing worms and blood

preserved in tequila.  We laughed at this

imagined horror but also feared it.

We knew the human race we were part of,

guessed three of our four drinks would please most and

wondered if bartenders only mixed us

opposites to prevent mass poisoning.

Oh, well, we sighed as we left in search of

liquid we could swim in—cool like water,

wet like a drink—no longer available

in the junk-yard bays devoid of oceans.

Inspired by the 2014 April PAD Challenge: Day 8 on Peace and Violence at Writer's Digest.

Copyright © 2014  S.L.Chast