Megatons and major-broads
and Cincinnati firing squads
lined the street
with punctured feet
and shot the skies with mushroom eyes.
Art and Dan and some dead man
hid inside a garbage can, while
gold platoons
with silver spoons
lowered down the has-been town.
The grill and bars and several cars
burned and sparked and crashed and parked
as life, so frail, went straight to hell
wrapped up in the ceiling war.