neon geriatrics
scare me
they investigate
my aberrations
walking through the mall
at 6 a.m.
flailing
at invisible enemies
waving off
retail daydreams
working off
potbellied lies
fed from automotive indiscretions
these fluorescent polka-dotted rumpshakers
are fueled
by microwave beliefs
they're polite
like liquid cobras
remotely aware
of your disrespect
their transluscent eyes
conceal
senile random conspiracies
we are trapped bugs
caught
under the weight
of their dangerous skinfolds
blue hair hurricanes
descend
a locust plague
of indigestion
fear pours out of me
furiously
wiped up
by starched white hankies
that one
she's 84 years old
waiting for the mail
be polite
she's a vestigal relic
with a shotgun
under the afghan
these thoughts
and other thoughts
give me neon geriatric nightmares
(published in
the Detroit Metro Times, August, 1994)