(spam poem by Edward Desautels)

shall we get our guns?
our phone rings at least once a day
and MA Bell gusts through us
a Goliath in David’s face

if we shot Goliath
might we put a slug in David?
before he could roll across the room
and end all of this for us?

we gotta see how this chapter comes out
unbutton the nightclub miracle
unload the dope-shed renaissance aesthetics
and quiet our jittery art-heavy convalescence

so we unbutton our god damned coats
haul out our guns of spite
burn our railroad elegies
and shoot fifteen frightful lepers

that’s all right, honey
let me show you a picture
I gotta stand up another twenty
a cruiser-load of minimax Babbitts

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