Sex Toys and War Planes

We replace all the war planes

With sex toys

And the seventh world war

Ended in about six minutes

People were thrilled

Oh, they were confused at first

That’s a given

But pretty soon

They adjusted

It’s sort of the reverse Lysistrata

Or a Lysistrata corollary, or--

It’s just replacing war

With sex

So in some ways

We really have to

Give credit where it’s due

Hippies

The hippies knew

What was up

Given the choice

Between war and sex

The only people who are going to choose war

Are men

And specifically

Men who can’t get laid

Or are bad in bed

Or aren’t, uh, well--

Gifted

If you get what I’m saying

Everybody else

Is very excited

To pursue something

More sensual

You should have seen the faces

On all the generals

When they showed up to work

And there we were

Just handing out vibrators

And assorted goodies

One four-star hero

Held up a two-sided rattler

And threatened

To put the lot of us

In the brig

Or the hull

Or whatever it’s called

We were a little nervous

Because generals are not known

For waiting to engage

And while we have deep respect

For the armed forces

We were also very firm in our belief

That life really can be just a bowl of cherries

Provided you have somebody

Ready with the whipped cream

What a confusing analogy that is

Or a metaphor

Or whatever

We apologize

Regardless of all that

It didn’t take long

For everybody involved

To get into our idea

Us, the generals,

Some politicians

A group of housewives

From San Diego

Who just showed up out of nowhere

Pretty soon we were using the war planes
Like party buses

And love shacks

Everything was consensual

Everything was passionate

Everything was sensory

No more smoke

Just fire

And somebody took one of the planes

Up in the air

With a banner behind it

Reading ‘Where’s the War?’

We can’t tell if he was serious or not

But it didn’t seem to matter

Because all the bombs had been

Rocketed out into space

Along with guns, bullets

And gruyere cheese

Because somebody on our committee

Wasn’t a fan

Women were stripping off their clothes

And running through the fields

That had once hosted boot camps

But there were no boots

And no camps

And mud could turn to soil

And flowers could grow

And our hair could be covered

In red and rhubarb

As the day turned to night

And the orgasms turned to slumber

I found myself in the middle

Of a pile of uniforms

A lover on either side of me

Looking up at the clear dark night

Wondering where the plane with the banner had landed

And whether it would ever

Be taking off

Again