This politician
said he, at age eleven,
swept up broken glass
for 50 cents
an hour
and ironed his dollars
to get to heaven
(due to sin and dirt)
till he
switched
to collars and shirts
(really, a dandy )
said he bought candy
with his cash,
in addition
he asks
"Will you
yourself explode
to kill?"
"I will", I mask my grin
taking in
my fill of
feigned pride
"I'd shatter myself
on streets of dirt!"

"But will it hurt?
he teases
"No," I said "Not for the dead.
But, still
pain lingers
for those
nearby"

"Yes of course,
why I've
picked
up pieces of
bottle corpses
and cut my
fingers!" he remembers.

"Plus, it's us" he throttles then adds
"The senators and saints
the moms and dads
that faint after retreiving
the dismembered
on streets"

After awhile I sass, "Funny, so with no
money
there's no
treats."

"No alas, bills will the killing.
But I
wish it wasn't true
that pieces were
diseases; the scattered feces and faces
the chopped Visas
and missing dues. "
he ends unduly
glad

tying his shoes
crude of crude
spritzing cologne oils
spoiled of spoiled
latching his chain
brain of brains
scooting
away from
me
in his daily
three
piece
Ar
ma
ni
law suit.