She croons and careens every opportunity, smoldering up all her yoke then
Gurgling her many networks inside of a chicken-liver throat
Marrying the balding miser, son of false munificence

He is employed by all that is kindly elite, disbursing board-game money
And devaluing the still-young boy, his baby-fat jiggling in a glass vase by his heart

She quietly balances on the clouds of the overblown
And he speaks of moguls as she queues up her lies.
Monopoly of her invented prestige…

Well, she is millions of parishioners updating one Facebook page
A self-serving, tawdry servant with not-quite green eyes

I see troves and troves all along many beaches but her subsidizing is too much
For all the droughts and real billionaires and my groves of fauna

We are not interested with upstarts here, the urbane curls around
Comfort and plush like food, like hand-made food but not Her, not Her, not Her

Not the thrifty soda-shop of-a-girl
Not the same tight dress and fish-smelling emporiums and exhaustive lepers.

The Refrigerator

She hosts a florid fanfare in mid-town New York
It is as gaudy as photographs of the Coral Reef

Grandiose is a neon color and gives birth to tycoons in my stomach
Some guests pick at the garnish but my hubris trumpets up above all that

Her world is held in a lavish case that isn’t really lavish
She is a plastic flower in a New Jersey home

A layperson of the world, the lionizing, phony magnate
Who has a Styrofoam heart- it cries snowy, snowy snow!

Lush valleys scale a tipping body, soon rocks will tumble
And the precipice will look up at her, honest age looking up at the vaunting vendor…