MOTIVATION

The ever cycling sound in his head

Could be described

As the roar of a leopard

Slowed down five hundred times

He was a secret Christian

Slurping in the filth of New Rome

Certain about who sent

This swarm of tattooed

Strung out, steroid teens

To keep him company

On this Coney Island bound train

Insults

Sprung from the misidentification

Of an old man

Whose entry into this world

Was as exquisite

As a chest of fine Chinese gunpowder

Or the discovery

Of the last acre

Of arable land on earth

Or the roar of a leopard

Slowed down five hundred times