Chicano Poet

Monday, October 01, 2007

Tool Kit Elegy For Michael Hamburger

Now you gonna rot, oh, patty,
oh, toasted bun, the charcoal fire going,
the hell with God propane.

Your sister always wanted you
to change your name, to change your name,
but you always said, “What, are you insane!”

Do you want fries with that,
do you want to super-size your death?
Teenage girls at McDonalds never forget their bras.

They forever told you fried foods
would be the end of you.
Now, you’ll have time to decompose that poem

you were always working on,
the one that never got done, and all the time
in the world to build even the wrong Rome.


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