A question not, as you
may think,
of Shakespeare and
show-ponies,
but more fundamental
culinary matters
such as who eats whom,
and at what price,
here in late industrial
suburbs
threatened by longevity
and bored indifference.
People dream their way
into tomorrow,
screened off from the
institutions of yesterday -
church, family,
decency-
consuming tackily glued
emotions
on current affairs
programs,
black or white it's all
the same
between the ad breaks.
Don't you wonder
sometimes, fit to burst,
by what algebraic
journey we reached
this end of millennium
fire sale,
how the disaster corps
managed to avert
a show-stopper of smoky
nightmares?
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