We all rode in on a roan

one horse wonders
galloping full pelt into the
disquiet


Why hand me the day?

What would I do with it
but turn it into something tawdry

a cheap mp3 version
tinny sounding and clunky
compared to the vibrancy of its
original form

You have never lost that sheen

the belief system woven around
my dogma

And though
I cannot stomach my own propaganda
anymore

the pamphlets
are still floating down around us

A rain
of delusions

Your day

stuck to my fingers