get your killer spatulas from hell, get ready to leave your legacy
on a dimwitted unsuspecting cantankerous paranoid public.
the deaf shall render the blind visual,
and the obtuse will sniff all the receding drainpipes
proving the o'factory still is viable.
get your baedekers open to page it never truly matters
when you're having fun venting...
the trees of romantic dreams
they shrivel when you claim residency on their branches.
render unto seizure, as in julius,
all that is eligible and at times even legible.
please wrap your catatonia in the flag,
and when the checkerboard becomes untenable,
move on to chess, where the big boys and girls
hover, as uncertain weather
aims its scattered seed all along the
we are the true people
back road.
all hearts, if provoked long enough,
turn into weapons.
whether they are deadly or not,
depends on the next act.
raise your hand, even your ante,
when the halo attempts to kiss your hairstyle.
it might not last,
but you'll look a tad photogenic
for a moment,
and if someone from another planet
mistakes you for the golden tour,
simply nod
and give yourself up.

scott
florence,oregon
home of the rainbow ballroom
8/20/2010