in a swing the other way
breaks the smoke
Hanging there under
x-ray radiance
stripping everything
to an embarrassing nakedness
of goods and services
Doled out in hopes of
happy returns to lines
clanging the tune
welcomed at any rent party
where we might break bread
or some heads
or maybe
Some habits we could do without
like this brand or that staring you
down the throat
with a price tag like a ticket
summoning us for some jury duty
and fast cash
ten cents to the dollar,
The opening of the doors
leads another
foray down
the aisles of low return
where I've heard
some Japanese soldiers
still lurk behind
cellar doors
waiting for word
of the descent
of The Emperor's sword.
