Poem: Boomerville

 

Boomerville

 

plowed by commercial decades,

this mind could never break leash.

 

grooves have been cut

for neural ivies to trellis in my head.

cartoonish plants.

 

my last dying thought

might be Coca-Cola.

 

maybe if you rip off layers

of toilet-tissue-papery prods,

those soft sorts of goads

that make human beings salivate like dogs,

 

and maybe, too, if you could ignore

the economic circus of greed,

there might be something more,

 

beyond this logo-face city,

smiles, walls, signs, wrappers, screens,

weedy from gutters to computers,

up to the top of my beliefs.

===================================

2/20 ... removed 2nd-person references to keep the poem focused on 1st-person

2/2 ... "human beings" replaces "humans"; "could ignore" replaces "ignore"

1/29 ... baffled minor edits ... "sort" or "sorts"  ??... etc.

Foot hurts, hobbling.  Lonely.  No humans around to help.  Just me and my muses.  So I write stuff (give up my body to spirit guides).