Chicano Poet

Thursday, January 08, 2009

Mixed Metaphors

I’m getting sick and tired of hearing about
missing co-eds found slain,

their Hello Kitty panties
celebrating that dark day when the Japanese

raped Pearl by the hair of their chinny chin chins.
The tall detective’s keen eye spots a blade of grass

which doesn’t belong to Walter Whitman.
A pebble nearby senses the detective’s

sick interest in the girl’s decaying body.
The sun keeps on pouring sunlight

on the girl’s bruised face and thighs
as the enemy planes head back to the carrier.


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