Ode to My Foreman Grill
My silver-gray Foreman grill
idles on the counter
like a UFO
warp speed again
because its occupants
decided to throw
of Angus down
You see? The orange light went out;
They're not going anywhere.
Get behind me, Satan,
And follow my lead,
I’ll show you how to make these humans
Make themselves bleed.
Turn the other cheek:
Workman’s comp for a week.
Upon this rock
I build my parking lot.
Render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s –
And when you get the change,
Let’s flush this toilet and head over to the Bellagio.
Let the little children come to me,
Only don’t let the Feds know.
O ye of little faith,
Always asking: What if?
Bulls and bears make money;
Pigs get driven off a cliff.
I am the way, and the truth, and the life:
Don’t pay no taxes, ain’t got no wife.
This is what the country means:
The greedy earth, a soul-judging sky,
The sweet smell of shit on the wind.
And the dumb staring eyes of cows at a fence
Endlessly chewing their cud, yanking tufts of grass
As if they were handfuls of hair on my head.
Animal, vegetable, mineral.
And the rain. Always the rain.