blood bricks

pepper speckle

black walls.

balloons crooning

clouds soon

to burst

dumping no worse

than the plague of

goons that curse

this town

in the first

place.

the ground around you

is sinking sand.

take my hand

and hand in hand

we’ll flee this land

which.

follows the plan

of one false man

who WON’T understand

Afghanistan

leaving behind

barely breathing

babies still teething

seething with rabies

over one last meal

the world consumes them

like veal,

lamb chops, ham hocks

fois gras, bagels and lox

before they can even leave

their sandbox

Aesop, the Doctor

fox in socks

or whatever the fock

wherever you flock

however you rock

get out of your box.