There walks another bill-
board from a store down in
Moore. As I rev by, Pepsi
spills into my eyes from his shirt.
His cap is on backwards,
and first class tripped from
Seattle to somehow
saddle its stay to the
Oklahoma way. Junk in the trunk is not always a good thing. I'm too speedy
to care how.
Some Supersonics those bozos are. "Bozos" is almost as bad as Sissysonics. Quit telling me and start showing me.
I buy tickets in advance
before they sell out, This is pointless. Isn't the whole idea about buying tickets in advance so that if they sell out you still have tickets, or so that you don't have to wait about getting them at the show? So why's this other line here? so waiting
in line was a half-step tango;
like Okie economics.
Like my life before the fourth quarter
struck me existentialist.
That game plucked my logos,
that's for sure.
Birds are light out now. No
breeze blowing bits of
trash into alleys, either.
Just me and the shop displays This is okay. and
wait a minute, there's something new.
I am not the fan of the narration. I think it would be okay if you were less telling in other places.
Some blue shirted racer
making a mad dash over yonder,
Do you honestly use the word yonder?
and boy, does he leak logos or what?
I have serious issues with questions used like this in poetry. Call it a pet peeve, but it not only hardly works but it's a little irritating. Don't ask us things that a) you don't answer, b) we can't answer, c) are rhetorical, or d) pointless. Pick a category.
Like a dripping oligopoly, that one.
"...street tape shows suspect
on south Howard running
left down South West second wearing
a jersey. Suspect also wears a cap.
When he reaches South Broadway,
suspect pulls firearm out of pants pocket
and starts shooting
nearby billboards.
"
Hamburgers used to be thirty cents
in the food industry's fast lanes.
This topic change seems abrupt.
Now, it's more like a dollar or two.
It's as bad as that spiky haired
commercialed animal outside.
I already Commercialized. Is this the Sonic reference?
counted four shots. I bet he'll take down
all the competitors with that aiming,
Eh.
and those emerald eyes.
He looks like
he enjoys lighting the skies with smoke.
I wish it were a sham
so I could keep some wishful thinking,
but I know they've been swallowed
into the machine.
They're robots now. The kind
mechanically designed as
the government's cash cow, and
I was them for years.
My whole house too.
Covered in posters and pictures
and everything. Someone is going
to pay me back my bills
for wasting front row
to see the Sonics lose. The phrasing of this last line bothers me a bit.
