After Susan Sontag
Okay, we know that a BIG THING
has to happen before the titles
which foreshadows what is to come,
and we know that there must be
an expert (obviously six-foot Alpha)
who knows what is foreshadowed
because he has spent all his life
figuring it out, neglecting the wife
and son or daughter because of it.
He must warn a mayor or another
jobsworth who scoffs and ignores
him because of money or power
(which, of course, are BAD THINGS).
Meanwhile, the BIG THING worsens
though various CGI tableaux
where people who we don’t know
are whistling through day-to-day
lives but are then eaten, burned,
infected, crushed or drowned.
Depending on how BIG the BIG THING
is, hundreds, thousands or millions
of people can die, till the mayor guy
is overruled and hands over the reins
to our expert. He will save the day
and then snog his estranged wife,
make up with his son or daughter
who don’t bear him any grudge
for all those years in the office or lab.
It all ends in one final amnesic hug,
in which we all happily forget about
the hundreds, thousands, millions
who died to make a happy ending,
to make a divorce not happen
and the American family whole again.