Fidel Castro let go of the bed

His broken record bucks with static

 

Blame blame blame the

P.E. teacher who made my

Life grim.

 

The earth is burning, the earth is burning

May as well spend the weekend on Blackpool Sands

 

Love beats abortion, irony beats stupidity

Swirling around in a stark blood red orange

Lost in a made-up history of calming fire-pit ale

Died at cellular level

Never to be reborn

Stung by deep and thorny words

 

The frog prince pushes Fidel aside

While Monsignor burns sideways.

As summer ends and storms begin,

I pray never to see him with his cloth and club.