mold old pita bread
while extolling the intricacies
depicted in The Lorax–
just as a matter of fact.
No time like the present–built into
the inscrutable molting pattern–
for a splash in the unsalvageable
concrete turnstile lifestyle,
no matter what our compatriots
might mouth in opposition.
Hell, you could go for a while
without betraying anybody’s trust,
and wouldn’t that just be neat?
That would mean that you’d deserve
to be on your best friend’s right shoulder
while he reads his vows
on a sacred summer afternoon.
hold old cheetah breath
in the highest of all esteem–
and esteem-related sincerity–
while plunging obliquely
through the ever-stacked ideology
touted as ne’er-do-well yodeling.
I really wish they’d loosen this jacket,
whoever they are. It’s cutting off circulation.