PICKING THE POCKET OF MY POISONED WORLD
Grinning cats gathered at the bay window
It is all libertine and tribal stamina
That runs through my mob mentality
Too much clumsy bourgeois amusement
There are ancestral ghosts on the chopping block
Tedious resurrection has been put on hold until further notice
An unknown saint wants to sit out roll call
There are bushes for buzzards and wrangling for roses
Philosophical dimensions have been farmed to death
Someone sounded the political alarm
Before senatorial smoke could reach the moon
A new family alignment pushed the frontier
Into the face of a shaky trigger finger
I stood over a barrel filled with contagious cousins
A gigantic glass elephant stood guard
Where metal detectors go to be inflated
A trail of melted departures runs into petrified crops
It became a month of cloak and dagger intrusion
Wherever wandering hangs its translucent hat
I grew up with body buzz that doubled as a electrified fence
No one felt ready to be my bumblebee of innocence
A muddy parking lot collected a string of massive stones
I left a quirky tunnel vision at the sharpened end of American history
As an ascending gritty expression of roadside revenge pushed me
Toward the misty hieroglyphics of a glowing gummy salvation
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