What in Indo-Chinese sounds scandalous
Herds useless terms before us as we bow
Supplicant to the swirling appending of ice
Cream on the Dairy Queen sign.
Truth
To say we only just got one in our town,
Weeks of the empty storefront and the lake,
Ducks and homeless circling, lost.
Now the girls lean out too far from the drive
Up and the bums squirm down the spoiling milk
And my goal, which is to follow the shadow
Up the metaphoric staircase
Where, on a shimmery canvass,
I see a bonsai tree on your teacup, before your lips,
A wren & cracks in the mountain,
Says bonsior to the Blizzard, M&M to the Snickers
Forming at the front of my wardrobe.
Even now I’m losing sight of it, in the prayer hatch.
Sprinkled nuts & fudge. The gooey termination of society.
Wrap your bonbons in that o’ reader. Epithet
Of self abuse. Oh Queen, flapping tyrant, homily
Of men. I’m an underage fool falling down drunk
At your All Ages concert. Chinese guitar riffs.
The ducks are forming an island with their backs
To us. Soon we’ll be the only ones in line.
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