LIGHTNING STRIKES THE PROTEIN-RICH POSTCAMBRIAN TIDE POOL
While not a Wiccan coven, quite, the local
Food Co-op's a colloquy
Of gray braids above those wool felt clogs
One wise woman over thereno nubbly
Linsey-woolsey leggings, no loose Andean
Knitwear on that onestylish, undeniably
Above this war of worldscalls don't-fuck-me shoes.
Here at the Sinclair station, other issues
Rule. Recumbent with dunces, as usual, we're a who's
Whom of never, ever gracious to a fault,
Phallocentric, smoky, sulky with Miss Oil Filter,
September '85, abulge with those brick-sized billfold-
And-belt-chain gentlemen's accessories
One always sees in philadelphias of this sorry
Sort. Anyway, across comes a girl in Minoan axes
Asking Do any of you comedians want a Quinoa
Or Spelt Flake Smart Drink? No one
Blinks. Got kamut? offers Phil. The sine qua non:
Contact. Civilization begins anew.