William Tell Routine

The world on your shoulders is egg on your face
a sad embarrassment this investment in society,
tribe, god or whatever-you-call-it… faith
wasted on the playground or sober on the assembly line
it’s your time and back
therefore the choice, as it stands as such, is yours too
to have and to hold
to possess and molest
to dance the social advance
stupid questions like the lash
of an inquisitor’s whip
where’re you from
what do you do – safe these –
because everybody’s from someplace
and we are, all of us,
allegedly supposed to do a thing
I pick a place – I pick a thing
that’s the answer – always changing
new choices daily
where do you live
let’s go
a crucifix on the wall
that’s nice
so it would seem – belief –
as long as you’re not that Guy
from Nazareth in the salvation business
the overhead is murder
the Heavens on His shoulders
is an apple on His head
crossbow in hand, I take aim, but not too carefully


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