Wallet to Wallet

Selling your ideals on my porch

Thinking that every cliché

Will make it all happen:

All sewn up, in the bag,

All packaged up and ready to go

While you are talking smack of your planet

In inbred proportions,

Smacking your lips with profane zealotry

Nothing more than a parking lot gull

Scavenging for whatever scraps you can procure

Attempting to hammer your point 

In the middle of my lawn

For all to see and hear

While dodging bricks and stares

Shoving down the stairs 

With a vulgar laugh and a pious façade

Begging to add my name to your clipboard

So that I’ll find nirvana in windows and siding

Or in the sign in the skies

Or in that chemical that will turn

My neighbors green with envy

As they hide their children

From your pamphlets

And your f-bombs

That you drop on the other side 

Of the screen door smoke screen

Making them wonder what happened 

To the cookies and the brushes.