I have my breakfast
I have fool's art

I have my bass
that never learns
a slapping face
wears fine lines
between syncopated opiates
and rhythmic beats

In our Populous cities
success crescendos
to demands for a stadium
full of gladiators dying
in entertaining tragedy

We have time
We have loose change

We have youth
that imp which finds

Romans still sneak
under progressive lust
beneath beer fences
and Coliseum bleachers
with girlie giggles
and stiff speared Heroes
into history