Saturday, February 18, 2017

 

After "Breakfast"


The others covered me
with garbage.

Fresh, so it still gave
off some heat.

Then they all chanted the
Hymn of Praise to The Wealthy.

For in other sectors the garbage
flash-burned into the air, and
not available.

There The Wealthy are cruel, or
the intellectual ones, Population
Controllers.

The children blend the chant with

their games.

I drift away into an odoriferous nap,
pleasantly listening.

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