is another divine intervention victim,
non-denominational mid-life crisis
indulged with a ’67 Mustang hardtop.
God’s will be done, right? What if
dementia is more fun than nursing? Tell me
what happened in Vegas west of Eden.
Does the Frontier still serve brains & eggs?
There but for the grace of Krishna go
pussy cats posing on the internet, chimps
in plaid jackets and top hats snorting
blow before thumbing their noses at Jesus.
Does that ring a bell? Should we burn
some incense? Put your cards on the table,
slap a corpse on a slab, pretend it’s ahead
of itself or rather, behind, like luggage
tossed onto the wrong conveyer.
Spread ‘em, Laddie, Old Jack O’Diamonds
is passing the butter with that baguette.
Brando’s got his tango by the tail feathers,
and that bleeding Queen O’Hearts dines on
Buck Owens’ guitar table. It’s plain to see
tigers are feeding on Palestinian Christians
in the stable straw of Bethlehem mangers,
cradles loaded with IEDs triggered beneath
baby-dolls swaddled in shrink-wrapped shrouds.
Insanity feasts in humanity’s kitchen.
Cousin Louis knows Kosher can kill
Muslims or dentists on either side of the fence.
For Christ’s sake, crisis could care less about
a particular age, and most of us prefer living to
dying or driving car bombs, not to mention
driving up the costs of flying first class
(God forbid being stuck in the back with
the brats, that infirmity of mouth-breathers!)
Thank God if you weren’t born poor (or gay).
No one is standing in line to buy bootstraps!
Nobody “really” wants to qualify for Affirmative A.
They say most business used to be done by God-
fearing white men on the links back in the day,
but they’ll let anyone on the course now. Some
claim they don’t think they get a fair shake . . . the Lord
helps those who help themselves! We’re still living
this Goddamned American dream!