we can paint this whole city gold like a giant oil spill,
blinding and much much heavy on your tongue
and enlist a gleaming marching band whose buttons are falling off,
the tuba player is a gum chewer, there are mint chunks caught inside, barely playable
all she can do is honk
we’ll get limos with cracked windows and yellow fire trucks,
with flat left tires
acrobats in risqué costumes that little boys will point and giggle at
with sick clown faces, sick clown faces white, 7 or 10 layers of powder
and people from the slums of Uganda/Somalia/Niger or something, poor areas won’t be hard to find,
foreign tenants who live in dirtied-down shacks and
we will release from plastic cages, doves that have lost their pure color
that have been injected with toxic who-knows-what to be captured
hookers with big hair from the streets of large cities, they will blow kisses at the children and
wink at grown men
pigeons will **** on the windshields,
and the air will be so thick with pollution and filth that no one will be able to see
the deflating balloons of Mickey Mouse.

it will be The Biggest Parade the-world-has-ever-seen.