I wrote away my days like a nihilist;
I rode supersonic waves that science missed.
Popular demand produced a chaos fetish;
Unable to stand, I became an otter fish.
Hellish water cycles and other worldly maps
Expunged our ubiquitous Navy Garden chaps.
Artichoke Fever Month had me gasping for light;
I wound up sleeping at my neighbor's overnight.
In-No-cent, dumb, naive, foolish, idiote-Que,
All the ways of being Happy in the USA.
+
Most mornings I think yesterday was Baghdad.
I walk on tepid streets wond'ring if Gal-a-had.
I used to be a woman, but now they run me monad.
The End
No comments:
Post a Comment