a biscuit for your thirst
it corporal sailing, smooth thinking; simply put, like telemarketers
capitalizing umbrellas. give me lovely, give me plastic trash
can orientation, in a vast array of bold and expressive colors.
acetate, now there is a word one can love like a motor. give
me things with an advantage; something to swallow in an instant,
a cosmos in rehearsal for a concept. give me lavender plug-ins,
casus belli to shake a stick at; "here spot go fetch."
give me a puppet with an ever expanding nose, cock or missile
display, an ever-ready happy face battery. legalized opiates;
ones to make you calm; others placid, the kind
that helps one keep stride to a military beat, use the crosswalk,
guild one to brush their teeth. oh say can you see the thousand
eyed monster coming at us from the national news, oh heavens
with 7-11, I cant imagine what they do in bed, its
unthinkable; or the poor poor little children. may we all
be children, protected from the big bad world, surrounded
by the aroma of plastic flowers, digitized for personal pleasure.
individualized in remote bat-like periphery, kiss me, oh kiss
me on my lead drive through windows. its time to abbreviate;
imagine if you can a defacto voice, it gropes towards you,
surrounded by sorrow and guilt; no more operator, just a slot
with personalized recognition, "hello, ________how may
we help you? have a biscuit for your thirst".