songs from suburbia, part 7

in the lilac morning you rise with your tree stump heart
and go get out the plank of wood to make crop circles on
the front lawn before the neighbors wake up. these days
you only get your kicks from watching the dribbling acid
rain eat away at the marble cherubs and lions, and wonder
why there are no lions eating cherubs. you would swear on
a bible that you owned no tarot cards, but unfortunately
there is a television remote permanently glued to your
right hand. you imagine heaven must be a place of infinite
carbohydrates, an endless supply of processed meats, gap
underwear, kids conveniently cut in half so you can have
your point five, beds draped in the interior leather of
foreign cars. knowing that dinner always tastes better
on its way back up, you put your head in the crock pot
and set it to steam.


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