I am in the throws of a murder burger
finger-sucking-good bovine ecstasy.
There is a campfire burning;
the wood smells like church.
There was a time when mankind lived
with the earth instead of on it;
But now is not the time for nature
nostalgia. I am pristine water from
Artesian wells born of heaven and filtered
through ancient rock. I am trapped
In plastic for your consumption — bring me
to your lips. Consummate our pact with
Petroleum products. The poorest of the poor
sleep on warm pavement. Recreation for
The richer involves choosing to sleep on dirt in,
on top, and under the most advanced
Synthetic fibers that money can create. Put
on a rubber and procreate. Intercourse
Smells like church. There is a campfire burning
and I am just getting warm.