August Poem 18: Professional Protester

In applying for this position, I

Rose pledging phantom scented seraphim.

I rose being gravely injured. I rose

To bash the head with a mortal sneeze. To

Promote the burning flag’s area. To

Make me the perfect pick. To contradict

The customer service pro. The lefty

Way of life. The ever heart of Google.

I am a dirt venture. I am any

Countryside attraction where there was a

Raccoon to mount. I am the city. I

Am the taxidermist. I am the stink

Wafting from the carcass. Pregnant. Bloated.

You are only a short drive from either.

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