the race

It’s just like, never mind.
For once, I’d like to
Chew the rind
And forget the pulp.

Where’s the rope?

You’ve since discovered that,
In domestic transparency,
A torbid cat,
Would get more notice.

An elevator, Otis,
Would climb higher.
Each floor, a magnifier,
Bringing more in focus.

A carpet of locusts
Engulf the obvious.
Devour an obsequious
Ballet from the dust.

Hey, that’s us.
We strut and pose.
But everyone knows
The puerile child.

Maybe babies.
Seething rabies.
Ready to spread.
Now, from this infected head

Comes a toast.
“To all that made the most
Of collage and confusion”
And stale bit illusions.

Stay the full course.
Ride steady the horse.
My ass is tired.
This feedbag expired.

Lucky Lady in the sixth.
Lest we find her
In
Betwixt.


11/25/20