You are what you eat & I
I am a sexmad wheatgerm
floating in holes of cheerios
stamped out of Kansas farmland
where in late August
the All-American sun
drives ripe farmgirls into barns
and shadows as pitchforks
are abandoned like Neptune's
trident while he rolled in the springs
with Ceres seeds exploding
everywhere pinecones and
pomegranates ears of corn
popeyed with heat
bunches of grapes swollen
in the wagon while we
danced & sang & drank
& ate and the god laughed
& chanted crying
Gobble it all in excess of
the minimum daily adult requirements:
screw hunger
look longer
live younger