Non-Erotic PoetryChaz Whipple's Self-TalkChaz Whipple, LA Taco Bell kingpin,
cursed Sacramento politicians
whose minimum wage laws cost him that Lincoln
as tan as Coppertone neighborly wives
he dreams of naked while goading the dog
whose messes he sidesteps on the front lawn.
Time to go in to his widescreen TV,
give "Shit-Zoo" a biscuit, rinse off the Florsheims,
pour two fingers. Hello, Mr. Beam.
He has more than a medieval king
Chaz says to his silk sheets midnight in bed
after he counted his 200th sheep.
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