it's glide through a meadow
three inches from the ground,
like demons in heat
those road-weary leather-men
smelling of scorched Earth
and a thinly-vailed lust
which implies a repression of the singular
in a cadence of co-dependency
we've rested those zippers on ruby red slippers
while sipping the proverbial scotch
coffee break
off having some minute of your time
...and he'd say,
"fuck those boys"and he starts carrying on
"I fuckin' own Illinois"
"I remember when this shit was all forest and farmland..."
"...back when surviving meant a good tilled Earth"
about how the lands been taken away
"by Freddy Mac and Fanny May"and he's stammering on
"...and you best speak their names with God's reverence"
"like Pharaohs, you best-believe it"
"what chance do we have..."
"...now that corporations are people"
this perfect little ode to derision
Mr. Crazed Ratcheted Eyebrow... a skeptic
coming back from a talk he said
was with a God who "ain't" there:
"lovely conversation with oneself"
"a nice sort of meetin' where we discussed why it's necessary for science..."
"...to not become some superstitious religion"
"afterall, human beings always have to build their pyramids...
"we best make sure it be for the right reasons"
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