O endurance,
you are my spiteful
upstream swim
just so I can spit
in the eye of those
who judged
my backstroke
to be insufficient
in the race to third
base. A collapse
narrated by a soporific
announcer. Anodyne
to the max, specifically
a panacea for
nausea ad hoc
ergo propter
I barely even knew
what it was like
to live off the fat
of the lamb. Taffy
at its core,
your prolapsed soul
patch might
scrap the dime store’s
spasmodic
codicil coddled by
imbeciles like
a bad idea or
a demagogue. Throw
another fire on
the log. Toggle
radio buttons
that killed the radio.
Fall on your knees
before the hole
in space that
is just
an emphatic O
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