Aqualung


Breathe.

like Tillamook

like bait dogs

like wartime amputees

Exhale.
 

severed by degrees

separated from purpose

tagged, monitored, and roped off

Breathe.

a democracy spelt in all CAPITALS

the population a schoolyard politick

no one will give up their spit wad scud missiles

Exhale.

(T minus 10 and counting)

their cherry bomb napalms

(hey high five!)

Breathe.

their vomiting super models

(counterfeit lunch ladies)

their Beamer standard

Exhale.

(a two-faced mirror, since the other car is a Vespa)

the poor penalized

like a voiceless world of Sneetches

Breathe.

(docter’ette of Seuss and otherwise)

lacking stars on their bellies

and fifty cents a day.

Exhale.

About Charron's Chatter

I bring to you an arrow, whole, Use it, or break it, But if you choose to take it --Know-- With it also, I will go. © Karen Robiscoe @1992

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