“Oh mother
Mother dear
must I die in this my only year?”
“Yes little one because today you are only a fetus,
not a tot
for just four-hundred and seventy eight bucks,
we can let you drop,
so your dad and I will be content,
nightly we can go out,
and boost some beers.
Doctor Bee Happy,
just makes a killing,
because,
out comes the babies,
pop, pop, pop,
then,
into the garbage can,
they drop, drop, drop.
I feel like going out and saluting the red, white and blue,
this is such a spiritual,
and democratic experience,
makes me want to write the Constitution,
on the post office with,
orange spray paint.”
“Oh mother,
mother dear,
must I die,
in this my only year?”
“I am female, disguised as gentle,
with sharpened fingernails.
I could be a Marine,
or President of the United States,
gals with their fists held high,
teamster girls beating up Miss America,
God wears a leather skirt, a dagger tatto,
nose and lip ring.
screaming,
Semper fi”
