A Nation Of Foragers Poem by Troy Cochran

I feel the coming on
of a glorious temper.

I see the Capitol dome in flames.

The Monopoly board is two boards now
and sailing across the Thames.

Paris is a shithole
and nurse to a plague.

It's a new world now.
Sweep away

The dead horse piles:
the marriage vows, the marriage miles.

We were very good
as liars.

Now we are caught with our pants
down.

A twist of the knife
and the Senate is dead.

And no one will take your money now.