In the Car (part 1 of ?)



That morning creeping

along the interstate

toward his job in the sanitized

corporate galleys whose someday

existence over a million boys

had died to secure during

the American Civil War,



he heard tell

of the devout men

of Iraq whipping themselves

blood-slick with flails

of six chains, goring

their backs for love

of the Prophet,

for the love of God.



There behind the wheel

of his silver-colored

2.5 liter V6 sedan,

he decided an equal

and opposite and appropriate response

to this information

would be for him to repair



ASAP to the enclave

of his company's

handicapped commode,

there to fire the ladyfinger

jibba he'd concealed

in a breath mint tin



currently located

in his car's center

armrest

compartment.