Lifecycle of a Drone

10 years
on a green street
paved with virgin
concrete. Sheaves
of golden headed
mothers sway in the
wind to the lyrical
drone of a sony walkman.
Chirping too!  Jingling toots
of a film about
dogs.  But there’s
something else there
as well…There’s
a frat-divorce
glint and a
a soft pink
scratch.  There’s
a sense of shifting
like a mangled tape:
Dr. Jekyll…Mr. Hyde…Dr. Jekyll…Mr. Hyde
But there’s more Dr. Jekyll;
the concrete’s still a virgin

10 years
under a bully bridge surrounded
by ash and crystallized semen,
listening to CDs formatted to
fit the brain.  Sly grinners
move in circles like wolves.
Wolves kill rabbits,
Help out other, weaker wolves.
Reasonable, yet so unreasonable
tones of voice, flutter like
fireflies at 11:00.  Clay begins
to settle in dysfunctional
phantasmagoric
shapes
red
raw
but scabby

10 years
melting in a hedonistic
aurora (watercycle etc.)
flashing cameras squirting
frat-weddings 2-3 times.
Blissfully oblivious
basking gaily in the Olympian
light of space age culture
entertainment walls.
Corkscrewing through
purple hangovers and
silver watches
ignoring the void,
while still a blooming
photosynthetic flower.
Subject says:
“Lying before me in a moat of risotto
The meat as soft as the leg of an angel”

10 years
clinging like
a grub to a pillow top
bed.  A drooling
Semi-conscious ear,
ingesting 5 O Clock
static and flies.
crying to Jesus
but rousing Zeus.
Don’t worry,
Papa loves his little
kitty cats.
He’ll give you a
job.

10 years
in an esteamed sauna
with friendly stretch
marks and cradling
cholesterol.
Zeus build decks and
televisions and prescription
glasses, that make everything
Seem satisfactory for the
Subject who lives
down the green street.
The old drone listens
to classical music
on vinyl using one of
those new record players;
the kind that hook
into one’s computer.