It's like the American Flamingo
who has made it's home
on the front lawn of every other trailer
in every trailer park
from Atlantic to Pacific
It's like the still reddening nose
of Grandma or Grandpa
who resides inside
Or maybe these swollen hand and toed hero's
have no family to anote them
with a title so feverishly used among
white trash up the rungs
to aristocrats
Maybe these vessel less folks
are just a container
for alcohol induced urine flow
Maybe, baby
those velvet paintings
of the only true king they've ever known
bring them more joy than
the unfastening of any bottle
of Kentucky straight bourbon
Maybe there is a diamond in the ruff
in the tornado starting
sardine graveyard
These diamonds might come from
the bottom of the box of Cracker Jacks
pulled by a sticky faced kid
and discarded after
their novelty has faded
Maybe the sign next to the
neon Budweiser sign says
diamonds a dime a dozen
In all likely hood these diamonds
were set in the
engagement rings of prison
or the tennis bracelets of war
or in the most popular of all pieces
the diamond pennet of
blue collar chain gangs
These icy rocks were never scrutinized
by jeweler called teacher
or jeweler named Sargent, officer, or president
But swept under a ruff rug
and given a gun shop
a liquor store
a hustler
and a local pub
with local people, with local interest's
to locate one another.
But me the cat burglar
I am planning a caper
with no goat scaper
and no morning paper
A diamond heist to improve, to improve American life
