Parasitic Thoughts

I’ll be the man
At the dive down the street
The one your wife wouldn’t walk into
If you paid her.
The one you go to
When you want her to think
You have overtime
The tavern
Armed with more weaponry
Than the American military

Sitting lost in a memory
Of the way that things used to be
The way the sun could shine without
Smog or the blood in the sky from
Waste and carbon monoxide
Before the pets we play with
And love as a child
Are skinned and cooked
To keep us alive

Lost in the cloud
That protected us and fathered
From the blade
At the end of that firing
Oak rifle

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