Battleship Nachos

Everyday
I count the battleships

Many more, many more do come

In your backyard we eat potato chips

The grey hulls show on water
as if like instruction manuals at night

We cut our hair
to celebrate the information . . . their information

I’ve left the canned chili in the cupboard on purpose

Rodger God comes for the blueprints

And we continue to count many more specks,
many more
on the horizon

We have to hide the information from
they hid theirs from us

You know, the fucked up eyes and fingers

Let us break those fingers and plant the turquoise
in the ground
for the squirrels to love in spring

Go there now in Corvettes,
GMAC Financing has zero percent A.P.R.

Go to the big big bay to see

 

Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin

The People Ad Infinitum

Suddenly there was a gas.
People ran out into the street to
celebrate the banks.
“The banks are here!
They are not leaving!
They have our money!”

They cheered loudly and started
collecting money.
They placed the money in a big pile
and had Big Mike bring his flatbed
truck over
to haul the money away to the bank.
The money has intrinsic value that
gives inflation meaning.
A lot of people had Kool-Aid stains
around their mouths.
They were yelling, giving each other
high fives.
Big Mike honked his horn as he drove away.
Who took the money?
Suddenly there was a flash and a loud noise.
Everyone collected themselves and their items.
They went inside their houses
and pulled down their shades and turned
on their TVs.
The Super Bowl was on.
Lots of really cool television
commercials shined that night.
A lot of people had Kool-Aid stains
around their mouths.
Everyone has to pay taxes.
You can’t cheat death, not with that
level of personal worth.
And Jesus, Leroy, isn’t someone always
watching you?