the Chicken of Tomorrow
breasts heavy with saline
margarine
dehydrated ice cream
freeze-dried coffee crystals
Right now, monoculture
feels soft and good and right
/>
as Minnie in the dark.
It’s 1940.
You’re not ready yet.
You can’t know.
Someday
everything runs down.
Someday
entropy unravels the very best of us.
Someday
all copyright runs out.
In that impossible futurological post-trickster space
I will survive
I will become my utter self
and this is it:
I am the god
of the secret world-on-fire
that the corporate all-seeing eye
cannot see.
I am the song of perfect kitsch
endless human mousefire
burning toward mystery
I am ridiculous