House Party

A flame alight exsanguinate, declaimed

decried upstood and held by private ranks

along the banks of manly rivers damed

and dry without desire for bread or war.

Inscrutable those boys and girls who dig

war grubs to bait sharp fish well-fed too fat

to need the food, to be the food, or not—

no easy pickings for lazy casters.

At least the Hummers are coming in hot.

A Suburban that only signals right

is doomed to drive around the block all night.

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