A trickle of tears is hard nursing

a can of recriminations, poor rations

and this spaghetti of conversation

slips through the fork of our best wishes

well, now that we’ve eaten our hearts out…

shall we leave the dirty dishes?

War on Poverty

We race to hell in shopping carts

down isles of strange inventions

voting with our Visa cards

and paying no attention

to the rising price of liberty–

safe and sound, we  hunker down

while the helicopter gunships fight our war on poverty.


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