Generic

the shorts sag 
beneath my 
empty morning belly, 
two eggs pop and spit 
and my radio casually 
chants : 
drowning babies 
and upsidedown semi trucks 
and the brats whining 
for the presidency, 
women, blacks and rednecks 
pushing their slobbering toddlers 
into the fixed grins 
of weary senators 
and someone said 
assassination 
and the rape of small boys 
and everything is now produced 
in china 
and tornadoes may be god's wrath 
against fans of auto racing 
and my screeching teapot 
sings in unison with 
the announcement 
of $5 per gallon gasoline 
and i pump up my tires 
and click off the radio 
and roll my bicycle 
into the languid 
morning sunshine

dry toast