Ironic monocle vision.

Next: ear trumpets to listen

to Bryan Adams.  Not because we like him

(with the stones rattling in his voice)

but because he is

everything we hate about the time

before we were born.


How dare he – the carbonated imprint of his

soda songs

left marks on our mother’s

embedded in their uteri

those lines we so barely remember they seem

to have always been

and so are deep.


I would not choose bow and arrow smooth

fight poverty with a wristband

and so robbing the rich

of their tidal right

to burn down the city

with all its glorious fumes.


But by bicycle, by this moustache

I’m telling you something

my grandfather knew:

we despise you

for living it up

before we had the chance to inherit the earth.



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