saw blades and synergistic bottom lines

i cannot tell
if it a motorcycle
racing back and
forth down the
road outside
or if it is a
gigantic circular
saw slowly tearing
its way through
grand prairie
the engine whines
reverberating as
i brush my teeth
rattling the mirror
or at least my
brain within my
cavernous skull
as i gargle and
the thunder roars
i imagine the great
rusted blade spins
a shower of sparks
as the traffic is
cut in twain by
the black smoke
heaving metallic
monster destroying
the city with a
high pitched whine
and a cloud of
blood flecked grit
rising in plumes
over the fiery remains
of another catastrophe

i finish dressing
tying my shoes as the
devastation rains
prepared for a trip
through a war zone
as the blade screams
carving a jagged rut
exposing the underbelly
carefully encased in
iron reinforced concrete
the veins of cabling
and overflowing sewers
as the lifeblood of
electrical sustenance
fails and sputters in
a dissipation of
rumbling explosions
the dying writhing in
the aftermath of this
blatant attack on the
sovereign sanctity of
a tuesday masquerading
as a monday morning

and as i pull onto
the street i see no
signs of wanton destruction
just the sun spilling
golden light over
the sleepy city
no ravenous machine
wreaking havok as it
chews through vehicles
a subtle sense of
disappointment as the
pinpricks of adrenaline
slowly wane and i
realize it must have
been a motorcycle
or one of those small
cars with a coffee can
for a muffler rumbling
but part of me is not
wholly convinced there
was not a nefarious
swarm of drones circling
my apartment as the
warships hidden by
the effusion of sunlight
hover above with a
certain malicious intent
great spinning blades
prepared to ravish the
land in a frantic
division as the placid
flock of flaccid failures
strive to fulfill the
dreams of sleeping
corporations dreaming
of record profits earned
off the neglected cogs
keeping capitalism
chugging onwards toward
a dissolution of hope


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