we are engines
filters
carbon dioxide emitters
absorb fuel as
corn fritters or gruel
bodies sinew
sitting on tissues
wiping our exhaust pipes
with dollar bills, sometimes run
out then get stinking rich
on money or dope or ***** or hope or passion
or fun or lose ourselves making gasss.
expect all the critters
to listen to bow down
beasts of omission sometimes
then amazing machines issuing
grace and great feel
passion heats us to 98.6
then we get fevered
and cry.
Cleaving to
pity?
Or cleaning the
pipes?
