you are a tree
a fountainbleau
of hypocrisy.
forestalled in
a foreskin
of nobody's business -
you drive me mad
you drive me crazy.
hail and farewell to
arms, legs, lips and bellies
full of plastic coated smiles
and sugar daddy candies
orchestrating
some cantata originally composed
for the King of Swing.
hey are you flat out broke or what?
redded, whited, blued.
Flagged
by a pale of
somebody's indifference…
“America” was printed in Harvest Time, No. 5 of Inwood Indiana. Pick up the paperback from Prolific Press; the stories and poems published online are free to read here.
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