Thursday, May 13, 2021

Poem: Cookie




a cute name for a snitch

in the business of human lust.

it goes right for Descartes’ bridge,

that most private pineal,

where secrets babble forth,

vulnerable and sweet.


a true coup d’etat for Toll House & co.

the gossip of the mind exposed.

all those palaces of personal pride

wheedled, invaded, taken.


on the lower floors, clerks giggle near admen

while they monitor, label and jar

so many deadly embarrassments

in gargantuan mainframes.


deep within the insatiable guts

of offices sectioned like tapeworms,

the executives map out a nation of evils--

every clue garnered from commonplace keyboards--

to marry the doll of each citizen’s demon

with voodoo pins.



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