for a few dollar$ more

Got to talking to someone about work.

Remembered this poem I wrote one day in Venezuela, having fought the rat-race of the underground.



  herds of people                                   ?
              HIGH                                    ?
        on caffeine                                 ?
   a crowd of people lulled                          ?
        by a morning’s                            ?
                        cigarette//// ?     ?

   a sea of heads

                down a corridor

     (and in my wildest
 h   a   l   l    u     c     i     n     a     t     e
         imagine            i          see


           DESTINATION: (?)

              no, not an OVUM

         but the GAPING MAW

         of a hopeless
          who gorges herself to

            MAX.  CAPACITY

         only to vomit us back out
            a few minutes later
                 and repeating the routine

           next stop:  estacion chacaito
           we all go down the toilet
           we all go down the drain

             and then
                like so much
             we stumble off
               to the arms
                of a
                     cruel master,
             a prostitute           
        for a few dollar$ more.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s