pink eye
as north korean rockets sail
as egypt burns
as guns of ignorance
strangle the drought of american landscapes
just as old ice melts into
the overwhelmed ocean
flooding other land
and it’s sixty degrees one day
and it’s twelve degrees on the next
he sits there
shouting into his cell phone
about how he has pink eye
how his wife his pink eye
how his daughter had pink eye
and how his son is sure to get pink eye
he sits there
disease riddled and out in the open
coughing all over us
eating a slice of pizza
picking his nose and scratching his balls
wiping his hands on everything
king of the world
king of his own little
fucking world.
ALSO: I have three poems up at Stephen Jarrell Williams' fantastic Dead Snakes
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