Where will we find our future leaders?
In the stadiums of sports and streaming features.
Polly Martin is an example of one.
A rhinestone cowgirl in a cummerbund.
Suess Shoestring’s another.
He could be your brother.
Then there’s Billy Black not on a holiday.
Mo Headstrong drunk in the alley.
All sorts of wizards that have or not made it.
While you and me keep dreaming in shit.
Church is where it’s at.
Scream your head off and grow fat.
Become a Nature Boy and sprout flowers.
Or Wonder Girl at two dozen showers.
Upper Lower and Middle Classes
are full of spunk for the fires of molasses.
You tell me where to go.
I see myself sinking in snow.
Headed for the ground or is it the turf?
What’s it to you? What are we worth?
Where’s It At
Published in Poetry