Saturday, July 3, 2010

A Politic of Boredom




Twas atop a mountain
with mold in my belly, two gloves and a ball
where eye find the American eye cannot

Or from seasons first
in the unjusted den they call Rodeo
where eye took to the washroom and wept

Not for romance
but for star bangled manner
— the pain of being man 'fore one other man's stand

Twas not the grass eye itch
but sacred cow and play on stage
— rope and teleprompted prayer

Lonely come Patriot
my country play for me
— eye fear eye can, owe one debt to thee

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