Poem: Rondo

cash grabs and glad rags feed bags and grab bags old nags and plastic blow flies and jujubes

If Freud had been Japanese,
would free association have led
to the penis? Why not to the tongue?
Or to a flip of the middle finger?
Both potent in their own ways,
and mightily accessible.

keen tools and old fools big screens and no means small backs and sharp tacks please take a seat

When school was let out,
Melvin’s mind was in the gutter.
Not in a lurid way, of course.
He saw a catch basin
and wondered what lay below:
the curious fruits
of an understimulated brain.
The ministry of education
prints glossy brochures:
our children will soar.
Of what use is soaring
to a naked mole rat?
Or to Melvin, who cracked his skull
when he jumped off the roof?

gun racks and coal sacks mactac and cheap tricks card sharps and tooth picks skinflints and back packs

If Freud had been a cannibal
from a Melanesian tribe,
would a cigar have been just a cigar
or precursor to a solid meal:
a cut of flank seared to taste
on the burning coals,
a liver paté spread on wafers
and downed with a sweet elixir
of coconut milk and blood?

monster trucks and blue pills boob jobs and bad luck motocross and oil spills dead birds and traffic cops