Monday, June 4, 2012


The ladies in the cafeteria
jabber on in Japanese eating with
chopsticks and the hallways are filled
with languages I can't even discern
there's so many speakers and voices
and all of them are helping to rape
some country that they're probably from
or maybe they've reserved their witless wrath
for some peasant or pilgrim or refugee
they'll never glimpse but to pity them
on National Geographic pornography
and they're all uncle toms
or hypocrites or bleeders and probably
accountants too
fucking everything up.

1 comment:

  1. Tom, I'd tell you that I love this,
    but you probably knew I'd love this before I even read it. So in a way, thank you for writing this for me. You're still a bastard for going to D.C. without us. The bars won't be as seedy, the drinks a little less sharp.