Michael Waterson
American Trip
With yr stars, rocket glare & happy trails,
U r a trip, America, flying high
on the whole hog-wild, Billy the Kid thing,
dropping in New Amsterdam
getting off before getting on
the Lincoln Highway great emancipator the automobile
(Lincoln shot in Ford’s so Ford made a Lincoln)
on a champagne ambulance ride
suited up habeas corporate
pupils the size of silver eagles landing on the moon
don’t let go-go go fly your kite in a lightning storm
Natchez snatches nacho crotch-o
Pockets full of junk in the trunk
& the way your fantastic plastic
monkey does the dog with the
swaying cactus over the drive-in screen
showing Psycho
while coyotes on peyote howl in the backseat
Do nuclear weapons scare you, Henry? You have to think big!
like Vegas casinos hawking spectacular views
of gamma ray mushrooms
like Jones and Dow, shilling widgets & fidgets
U r lost America U Stumbled got humbled whiffed
a spice
I-land & immediately enslaved everybody
allegories in your sewers faces manually weaponized
dwarfed under the all-seeing eye of Pluto
yr underworld boss
see to burning sea purple mountain-mining a heavy metal pyramid
telegraphing dog whistle code
yr messages aren’t getting through – u should check yr settings
dissolve to
landscape in the 5th dementia under bombardment
so stick a fork in
all yr
untaken roads
&
call it done.
Other work by Michael Waterson