Inane train conversation,
Woodpeckering my brain
Dispels post-gig elation
Til I'm cynical again.
The Asian in the Nike gear
Lambasting his colleagues:
He's in this game for chicks and beer.
I remonstrate, fatigued -
"You're not the King of Siam,
You're a Thai fishcake at best.
If this sounds xenophobic,
It does so at your behest.
You've botoxed your veins with bulldog piss,
And shed your native zest,
So hate is cheap and war is bliss.
Army soldier: Be The Best.
Ebay your ideals for indigenous credits.
Homogenize your genes.
The tabloid mother superior said it:
Suckle at The Queen."
And such drab ranting quickly tires
As does my writing hand,
Of wry political misfires,
And soon the train will land.
And I will slyly slip to bed,
My rising bile redeemed,
In knowing nothing ever said
Comes close to what we mean.
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