by Chris Butler
Searching for the American dream elsewhere,
with counterfeit greenback green
cards, as a stowaway on embargoed
cargo across an abandoned border,
pocketing the lone key out of Florida.
Flying south as the twenty-first hijacker,
brandishing rusted box cutters
for free healthcare with a cigar
and a sharp glass catheter,
spending time on Roosevelt dimes.
Or floating in inflatable rubber ducky boats,
surfing water-boarded waves
in constrictive plastic handcuffs;
LOOK MA! NO HANDS!
chafing across the barren sand.
Tanning under the blood soaked Cuban sun,
my epidermis burns as leather
masks, stripping linen skin into
suicidal Muslim complexions,
on holiday in Guantanamo Bay.
- ► 2010 (221)
- My Country Right But Wrong
- THE MAD GIRL, NOW WITH TIME FREE, JUST MAKES LISTS...
- THE MAD GIRL REMEMBERS THE ROOM UNDERGROUND
- Murray & Marie
- Literary Critic
- Adderall Floating Island Dream
- Miscommunicating by Poetry or My 2nd Ever Alyssa P...
- Golden Boy
- THE MAD GIRL REMEMBERS THAT YEAR ALL SHE LOOKED FO...
- THE MAD GIRL DREAMS SHE’S ALLERGIC TO CORDUROY
- The Night
- He was clueless in Gaza
- Day of the Dead
- THE MAD GIRL WAKES UP, DARKNESS BLOATING INSIDE HE...
- I Should Know By Now
- Looking For Answers
- No I’m Not Happy To Be Alive
- VASELINA ON MY MIND
- Wax Stripper
- THE MAD GIRL THINKS OF OTHER DECEMBERS
- I Made This Poem Up
- Letter to Pris
- Loving Norman
- THE MAD GIRL WANTS JULY TO SLOW DOWN
- Linda’s Place
- She Says I Like the Sun and She Likes the Night
- THE MAD GIRL ON HER MAD GIRL POEMS
- Glad that’s over with
- Holiday in Guantanamo Bay
- ▼ June (33)