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Overloading the Machine
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the after-hours party in the church
broken up by ministers stern with handcuffs
friends and seventh-grade locker partners
lined up against the wall
spaghetti mob mentality
all want to give BIG BROTHER
a BIG BRUISING black eye
but who will swing
both ways when the time comes
to unsnap that snap, and stray
from the spread sheet cell.
The notes blatted skyward as they rose over the Canada geese, feathered
rumps mooning the day, webbed appendages frantically pedaling unseen
bicycles in their search for sustenance, driven by cruel Nature's maxim,
'Ya wanna eat, ya gotta work,' and at last I knew Pittsburgh.
-- Winning sentence, 1987 Bulwer-Lytton bad fiction contest.
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