Nobody but me is looking forward to
the day I will change into my myth
on my calendar in my kitchen
I circle it with magic marker.
Blue for importance
red for insurance.

The snapping of fingers stimulates
the freight train’s beat coming through
the waving of both arms indicates
some rite of passage is overdue.
Just over this mountain
another bigger one.

Immensity in a candy bar
profundity shrink-wrapped
logo centered on an unnamed star
shining but not happening.
We are galactic
because we say so.

Jets above leave golden arrows
prop planes in formation celebrate
a war won before we were born
the one that made the nation great
for the few among us
kissed by Olympus.


About mrsorenson

NOT my president
This entry was posted in poem, poetry, song and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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