Summer sun bacons my skin, egging my
eyes, sausaging tender nipples and balls,
cantalouping my perspiring pores. Why
am I figging my morning jog with calls
appling fruits in Congress who blintz our lives
with taxes raisin for war, to sweetmeat
Wall Street, to sugarplum their own contrived
salaries? Hamburger those thieves! Red beet
their debt out of D.C.! Coleslaw every
bureaucrat. Mustard and onion their buns
inside cells bake potatoed for severe
torture. Garlic sauce the most evil ones.
Chateaubriand their homes, their families
muttoned inside. Mince pie their puny pleas.
Roger Armbrust
May 19, 2010
