the Zero years: poem

The zero years, a helluva a decade--
nothing can compare to them.
Beginning with a Two, as if to double
the trouble
of three zeroes strung out across two millenia of vesuvian rubble.
We queried: Why 2k?
O it was just on delay, you see
as our auld lang sine wave of predictability
must lose its invincibility,
and so it did eventually
in smoky plumes of twin towered dooms
unwinding out across the blue september skies.
Then while we nodded nearly napping
suddenly there came a slapping
as seven swans came swimming
across the Hudson skimming
pennies from high-freq trading heaven, and seven
cosines later, after pandora of Iraqi trouble
when our bubble was filled with rubble
we tumbled downtown crashing, those long tails just a-thrashing.
But who knew?
that just a stone's throw away
along the uptown Hudson
some Sully captain guy would land our decade of woeful dope
upon a lilypad of hope.