A gnarled armed armada

of out of work concubines

shouts obscenities

at a line of sad animals,

waiting for a ferry boat

that never arrives.

Sexual scorpions

are all over the place,

searching for a parade

of preferences.

They pull the trigger

of a Glock that fires into

an overhead black sun.

Hieroglyphs tell the story

of lascivious priests

releasing bees swarming

under mulberry trees.

Everyone is starving,

drinking rusty water,

and has nightmares

of waking up in a panic —

terrified tomorrow

may not be another day.

Under a panoply

of unending stars,

a select majestic few

discover the taboo

against knowing

who you are.