A visit to Cape Cod

The wafting salt that never aged a rich woman.
Piss on Cod! I mix one ounce of rotgut
to four ounces cranberry juice, on sale.
Poetry for the dropout! For the addict,
as all men are who don’t wallow in money.
What a poor substitute, this newfangled substance,
these pages the slaves balked at. If I
didn’t drink so much, grow another body
on my skeleton to talk to sometimes, hold
at others, I’d have nothing to do with money.
Favors for favors, gentlemen, and gold!
One might as well vivisect his own nutrition.
On Cape Cod, the snowglobe Cod, it is always sunny.


~ by Jeremy on June 13, 2012.

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