look
that home­less bab­bler
stands on the mail­box
as usu­al, speak­ing non­sense

(sal­va­tion thru self gov­ern­ment)

in his tat­tered tar­tan.
We’re out on Sat­ur­day nights
dressed to kill-

(accom­plices in bomb­ing starv­ing brown­skins)

and our

(con­sump­tion means extinc­tion)
(silence is assent)

Cadil­lac Escalade gleams
up to the club ? there he is.

Some­one

(should self-actu­al­ize)

should call the police. Want

(atriple­mocha­hazel­nut
lat­te­with­freshcrea­mand
choco­late­shav­ings?)

some java after the rave?
I could real­ly go for a

(french­vanil­l­abean
ubere­spres­so­caf­feinein­jec­tion)

cup of cof­fee.