September Poem 1: Burning in Effigy

The next contestant, who knows? When the truth

Circling the fishing boat like angry seagulls cries out

Of the rigging of the game. Too much. I’m

Slappin’ yo’ mama’s grass skirt like the fish

Monger that gives heads up when tossing fish

From one to another. Cry out there’s a

Fish aimed at your head. The hobbling of your

Thoughts somewhere, nowhere. Like the teardrops from

My single eye and everywhere around.

Kicking risers with the CPU fan’s

Buzz. The silent background buzz that without

Which causes mobs to run in and jump on

Donald Trump burning in effigy of

George W. Bush. The Running Man won.

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