Battleship Nachos

Everyday
I count the battleships

Many more, many more do come

In your backyard we eat potato chips

The grey hulls show on water
as if like instruction manuals at night

We cut our hair
to celebrate the information . . . their information

I’ve left the canned chili in the cupboard on purpose

Rodger God comes for the blueprints

And we continue to count many more specks,
many more
on the horizon

We have to hide the information from
they hid theirs from us

You know, the fucked up eyes and fingers

Let us break those fingers and plant the turquoise
in the ground
for the squirrels to love in spring

Go there now in Corvettes,
GMAC Financing has zero percent A.P.R.

Go to the big big bay to see


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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