Got an idea for a new product? Run it by
your local rodent. Countless abattoirs would
kill to get a load of your street credentials.
And maybe some juicy e-mails.
So be plastered beneath an agreeable algorithm—
less debonair tactics have yielded
devil-may-care results, but not enough of them.
Yes, the days do look less real when
they're sitting on a plate before you.
Their static patrols the stoic plain
as dandruff excuses multiply
despite attempts to secure the boudoir.
Guess I'm just holding a mug of lucky.
It's no wonder punctuation's
a major thoroughfare; no amount of
fictive screaming releases one from duty
in love's blood-spattered library.