peanut eater
the peanut eater
sits in the back of the bus
breaking shells and burping without a care
it smells like a circus on this thing
or a grade school cafeteria
and winter is coming again
and i am going mad with the smell of my own failures
mad with tiredness and the bleak tangle of the years
thinking suicide is too expensive a proposal
after all of this wasted time
that it is better to frail and dwindle
into my final rest
and the peanut eater
breaks another shell and laughs
throws it onto the floor without spite
as wars rage in the middle east
pitting zionist upon zionist
in this decades dimwit death dual for dirt
as america surrenders its loose decorum
to twinkling lights and saccharine songs
careening toward another black friday margin call
of stampeding flesh
fat with turkey flesh and canned pumpkin pie
full on their own dwindling largesse
primed to kill each other over telephones and big screen tvs
just to prove that they exist
as we make our way toward
mayan doomsday predictions
and apocalyptic fiscal cliffs of insanity
only the peanut eater
seems so calm in this madness
cracking shells and spraying peanut dust
all over this societal mess
i wonder how he does it
sitting serenely in the back of this bus
as i clutch myself and stare red eyed and crazed
out at this neon smeared landscape
wishing an end so slow and painless
smooth like peanut butter
spread on warm bread
under gray skies
threatening only that a light rain
is sure to fall.
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