I realized today

that I am a mass murderer,

that I have been for a long while,

and that I am good at it.

I realized this while I was

in the shower shaving.

It came to me

that I have been killing

my hair stubble,

not letting them live

for more than three

days in a row,

then slaughtering them

with my blade.

 

The aspect that I understood

most acutely

and most alarmingly

is that I do my best

to kill every one of them,

not allowing any to get away,

to live.
feeling upset if they do.

 

Am I,

I ask this dispassionately,

the Adolph Eichmann

of stubble killers?

Would I be as passionate

about doing away with humans?

 

The fact that I am so meticulous

in my task

and feel so glad

when the task is over

and I can touch my smooth skin.

A job well done!

Might I feel the same sense of gratification

after regarding a full shove into the gas chamber?

 

The difference between the two

set of circumstances

Is that I can remember

that the stubble will reappear

in a few days

and I will have to kill them

once again, will have the pleasure

of killing them with an even sharper blade.

 

Did Adolph ever wonder whether

his victims would reappear some day?

I think he might have.