Fiat

Five hundred days of bummers 
Brought to you by PowerCorp 
A portmanteau of proxy pith 
Nodded person orange 

There's crusty cruft in crucibles 
Silver dollar borne 
Next you smelt the double grind 
Hustle coiffeur scorn

Labor lives a tip a minute
As consumers manage
Administration by hungry thirst
Wilted gifts of cabbage

Do I say
Did be done
Fated fruitful work
One soul, plus tax

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2 Comments

  1. So interesting how the word fiat applies also to a sketchy car my dad had in the 1960s. Well, he had three — hence the name? Fun alliteration in this poem.

    —Tad Phippen Wente

    “A poem is a meteor.” — Wallace Stevens, poet

    https://tadphippenwente.wordpress.com/

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