Lightning flashes across the maddened sky
cuts molecules in half and you can count the seconds
1...2...3 then crack and boom!
Peering down at that moment you see the slow shuffle of yesterday's work,
the careworn and withered movements of dying-eyed
shadow characters best known from a distance
best known as abstract in a less than ideal world
while working-class stiffs think concretely,
lest our own thin skin be ripped
sinews and veins born against an x-ray sky.
Storm moving fast as clouds churned up by a whirlwind
dark masses floating in ethereal airs:
turned hot on its heals an evolution
of stomaching stuffs and growing the belly's bulge.
Fat now made famous
its consumptive powers render supposed evidence of our own will to fight
mano y mano
even though guilty till the last man standing
oink and you slobber over dinner
hwoink and your tongue pale pink lolls out
once more to suck on mother's tit
as anecdotal evidence insulates fallacious theory
in this myth of meritocracy.