America Comes Out Singing
Humongous decapitations. Horrendous dilapidations. Delirious procrastinations. Protracted ejaculations.
A nicotine delivery device. The crushed grape deliverance. The vice squad on the take. The broken levy, the sub-standard mortar. The all-night talk show. The loud voices of the get-ahead people–chest thumpers. Wonder Bread that kills you dead. Crushed people in a Raid box. No way out. Bugged brain waves. Secrets are treason.
The packaged deal. Media reality. Soap on TV, on the prison’s shower-room floor. Who do you love? The anal retentive. The anal inventive. The annulled marriage and the teenage bride. The population explosion. The World-Wide Child Sex Ring–cajoled, condoned, embraced. The Oil War.
The clit ring, the earring, the marriage ring. Ring around poor Rosy on a dark Brooklyn lot. Ring around the bathtub. Ring of fire. The Ringo Kid, famous for an eye blink, infamous forever.
Silicone tits, Saran wrapped cancer. Dental hygiene and slaughtered seals. Cell phones, dildos and dulcimers. Wonder drugs and banned drugs in a shake-and-bake brown paper bag. A church on the corner, a picket fence in your dreams. Bars full of mayhem and Monday-night football. A volunteer army. A video game war. Consumer and product, ante up. Eggbeaters, wife beaters, wife swappers, ostriches with their heads in warm desert sand. Blackouts, blowouts, strike outs and gout. A touch of the clap, the top-ten charts. Obesity on the rampage. Engineered genes. Tight jeans. Gene Autry and his trick horse. Rottweilers on the prowl, pit bulls in hiding. Cowboys and lassos and bondage. Slash-and-burn landscape, sacred rivers aflame, the Great White Father in Washington.
We’re all on the bus. Grind it into gear, hit and run to the climax.
When it’s finally over, everyone will be left behind.