The Battle at Marathon
I stumble along Pepto walls
drunken
colliding with
ambitious blue collar workers while
fluffy obstacles
protruding from a
cellar act as
magnets for the weary.
My head spins in
a maze as the trumpet
seduces
a Varsity army.
Olympic gold
I race.
Vulgar swimmers compete
along the milky way
to claim a
totipotent monarchy.
Winner take all
I lock the vault.
In three weeks you’ll
wake up with
morning sickness.
No comments:
Post a Comment