Appeared in the Press-Citizen June 28, 2007
By pipelines, by tankers, he stuffs himself with crude,
reclines like the Roman god he is to feast,
perceiving the world as his private source of food,
his head in Alaska, his feet in the Middle East.
The more he eats, it seems, the more he’s fed,
his arterial highways long past clogged.
He orders his empty-handed servants flogged
and every barrel turns him a brighter red.
And he grows fat. His belly swells with gas.
He knows the oil has ruined his complexion
and will not dare to look at his reflection.
He’s too bushed to limit the habits he has.
He appears on posters captioned “Mars wants you.”
In the picture he’s red, but he dresses in white and blue.