The ruddy turnstone of America
       died before my eyes.   This
    poem is inspired by
           but not about her.

     I tried to convince the great libraries
     to pump me full of rotten fruit.
     I tried and died?
     No I tried and failed.

  NASCAR cars awake to find themselves
  empty of engines but slathered in spit and lipstick.
      The Vice Presidents have all
      gone to pasture, revving
      like Alzheimer cows.

Meanwhile, on the North Slopes...
  The polar bears are all dead,
   even the ones we've eaten. The polar bears are all dead,
   even the ones we've eaten. The polar bears are all dead,
   even the ones we've eaten. The polar bears are all dead,

        I admit
        it's late and I don't know
        who to vote for.

 Sunrise in my eyes, coffee and rubles.
 This is the American Dream.

Please wait while I await another line.