Festive Tubes

Softening my position
With a tube of jelly
A ring above my drain
Like Saturn dripping with gravy
So this is summer
Loosening my constitution
To make way for a stroke
Honoring our nation's dead
With the promise of bacon
May it never end
Our reign of stickiness
The national debt
Attached to pork bellies
Ad infinitum
Fighter jets gone green
With lack of oxygen to the brain
Watering the crops with Red Bull
And reinforcing our bones
With scones
Under a softer light
It's all Botticelli
And Barilla
In puffy suites
With pillows over our heads
And a starchy flag
Spinning around on tender tendons
With marrow to spare
--
5.27.08