Olympiad

Here in America
damp as a sump
I’m pleading my case
to a jury of walls
searching for someone
friendly to gloom
who will swear
I am guilty
whatever the charge

Under the official
Olympic sun
Mammon is stroking
his money bone
the Goodyear blimp
sees no one alone
but there’s lead
in the popcorn
glue in the coke
down in the Bottoms
we’re dizzy with smoke

My Lord Ozymandias
Consultant for Soul
has surveyed the venues
laid hands on the land
with delicate fingers
of hourglass sand
the country is ready
burning but grand

Despite the Olympiad
I go limping on
taking my pleasure
wherever its spun
a little too lazy
to stay in the run
ear to the ground
eye on the gun

6/22-7/24/96

Copyright 1996 by Maurice Leiter

Posted with permission.