The café is lit like a refinery
Sights sounds ordure
Incense wafts into the
Unremedied hazardous waste
Of attentional technology
I’m killing time before a medical appointment.
Quite enjoying “Death to America” again
It’s been a minute
And as sure as day follows night
Flight disruptions lead to travel chaos
Warnings about sleeper cells and lone wolves
But doggone that pain at the pump.
Even though you can’t exactly see the shore
From the Seashore, when it comes to the Middle East
I couldn’t pick them out on a map
But who needs maps--just ask AI
Keep your chin up and your Hormuz straight
There’s two sides to every pancake.
Yet I feel pain at the pump
I’ve made my living doing things machines do
And now I’m an expat in my own birthplace
A medical tourist in my own country
With multiple good driver discounts
Off to see the doctor about that nagging pain at the pump.
© Copyright
2026 Randy Stark
Start of the everyday blog posts as mentioned in email. Now, that's scrolling at the seashore...Dick Chaney is not rolling over but standing up in his grave, "I'm missing this!" Where's the cast from the 90s who had planned this after Iraq...
ReplyDeleteGood lines "...I'm an expat in my own birthplace". The most immediate observations in your work. Say loud, Say it proud.
I mean Say it lound...I'm still catching when I leave out words. At 74, I really can't take anymore.
ReplyDelete