In the War That Loses All Its Colors and Feathers

As we turn the corner
and head toward the tunnel

I see her
all four thousand billion trillion tons of her

Spread canary
on an ever so slight 0.06 degree angle
Toward the horizon
the one over there
past the horizon
we see with our garbage gorilla eyes

She is stunning
everyone gets it
with a long stick
and little prongs and sprockets
tiny sparks harnessed and released
via cable and split ends

She carries you on her back, too
so don't act surprised
you rode chariot
you bled marigold
in the lobby of the Marriott
and said it wasn't hiphop
it was invisible horse hair

Her variables are gold and nutmeg
bring that gift when you come
In satchel or padlocked malady
Splay it out
Like the Vlasic stork
with scratched glasses
and an awkward toothless grin
that says, Trust Me
I Have Daughters Just About Your Age
she is careless
She couldn't care less
--
12.22.11