I am my verified and proper self
Mirrored across the laboratory air
Of soda fountains mounting shelf by shelf
On plastics lit by progress where
A cyclotron concocts my morning coffee
In the verified and proper year A.D.
And Mr. Shank in a white interne’s coat
Calibrates my nickel in his machine
So to deliver (black, no sugar) hot
From the chrome vats my Byzantine
Wiped marble edifice of morning state,
Fluorescent, air-conditioned, immaculate.
Oh I would travel, love, a furious length
To be your body’s bed, and you my bride.
And Mr. Shank has pills to give me strength
And elixirs profoundly certified,
And furniture of marvels, priced and near.
And I will bring you all of these, my dear.
Barbados rum and Pentecostal wines,
Books, bronzes, cordials, incense, aspirin,
Beauty, deodorants, valentines,
Extracts, testosterone, adrenalin
For Mr. Shank has treasuries to sell,
And home is where the cap comes off the bottle.
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