Get me out of this
Outback Steakhouse.
It is not in the outback.
Nor is it a steakhouse.
If Jenny from 3rd period English
is there,
it will be too much
to watch the plasticine moment
of people purchasing
something that doesn’t exist.
If I sit there and watch the plates
come in,
I will watch them,
watch them bring nothingness.
Jenny’s supple breasts evoke
trances
just like women and children
as items on TV,
or like fathers
with chiseled chins and parted hair
riding shiny new lawnmowers.
Economies are made to make
shit like this.
Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin
novamartinpoetry.com 