by David Plumb
Welcome to our IPod-euphoric Idol popping
lip synching bop dong celebration.
No room for grave undertakings.
Bring them home under the canvas and stick ‘em in a hole.
My credit card expired. No time to stop.
Didn’t mean to eat four pieces of pizza.
I’m just hungry.
You know how it is in the big time.
Show some leg, a little plastic breast.
Maybe a penis shaped like a cell phone.
Anything to drop your drawers
So we can see who owns you.
Never mind where the boys are
Or the girls for that matter.
If they get caught, they’ll have pictures
without heads or maybe throats
cut, or maybe you can shoot
them for being on your lawn.
Don’t run out of gas.
Take your time.
There’s a war going on.
David Plumb’s latest fiction book is A Slight Change in the Weather. He has worked as a paramedic, a cab driver, a, cook and tour guide. A long time San Francisco writer, he now lives in South Florida . Will Rogers said, “Live in such a way that you would not be ashamed to sell your parrot to the town gossip.” Plumb says, “It depends on the parrot.”
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